Dear Reader
by GrumpyK1tt0n
Summary: Caterina Davis tells us the story about how she was send back into time. This is the story about how she adjust to the life of an outlaw, and finds the man she loves. This is also the story of Arthur, who starts his journey from an outlaw to a man of honor.
1. Chapter 1

_New York, 1953_

_Dear Reader,_

_First of all I would like to express my sincere gratitude that you would take the time out of your busy schedule to read my story. I know how busy you youngster are these days. In this story I will tell you how I, a woman born in 1988, was transported through space and time to a small town called Armadillo in 1899. Now, Dear Reader, you might be forgiven thinking that this tale will be about how a woman from the future adjusts to such a rugged past. Although this assumption is, for a large part, correct. Hopefully, you will also read this story as one about a man who -when I first met him- stood on the edge of a precipice. But one push between him and a life full of violence, crime, even murder and in the same vein, just one pull removed from a life filled with laughter, love, and honor. This story therefore, is also about his journey from a cynical, bleak man who had lost all hope to the most loving husband a woman could ever wish for._

_I can hear you think, Dear Reader, that if these rather extraordinary claims were to be true why do I only now come forward with this news? I hope that you'll understand that my late husband and I chose a quiet, simple life. Rather than one in which we would be in the center of attention. I feel that now, in the winter of my life, five years since my husband came to pass there is room for me to share this story. My husband deserves to have his legacy immortalised, even if it is through such unskilled penmanship as my own. If you experience even the smallest sliver of joy through ready this story, as I have felt while sharing my life with such a wonderful man, and if you will remember his name after finishing it, that will be enough for me. _

_Again, I can't thank you enough for reading. Because, when you have finished our story and think about it from time to time, our love will remain alive for many years to come._

_Yours Truly,_

_Caterina Morgan_


	2. Chapter 2

"Keys… Keys… Where are my _damn _keys!" I scrambled through the drawers in my living room. Why is it that keys only go lost in the morning, when you are late for work? Half panic crazed I pat the pocket of my coat. Right. I already put them in there last night so I wouldn't have to stress in the morning. I ran out the door as fast as my stiletto heels would carry me. As many from my time would attest, the corporate uniform for women is not made for speed.

Traffic in the year 2019 is crazy, Dear Reader. A distance that an automobile (or as we call it: a car) could easily transfer in less than 15 minutes, can take up to 1,5 half hours when it is really busy. Navigating the bustle of cars, busses, bikes and pedestrians can be a challenge in an onto itself. You have that to look forward to in the upcoming years.

I started drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. My God, I was nervous. I looked at myself in the rearview mirror and said: "Cat, you got this! They asked you for the job because you are _good_. You don't need to stress. You got this.. You got this.. You got this.."

If all had gone as intended, I would start my first day as manager human resources in a large company that had offices around the world. A job I had worked towards for the better part of my life. I studied hard in high school, went to a prestigious college, worked odd jobs for a few years until I finally landed a job as human resource officer in a family business. As the business expanded, I worked my way up and built my resume with further schooling. And now, at the age of thirty I could call myself Manager HR. I brimmed with pride.

However, the reality of my situation was that I had been stationary for nearly forty minutes. I was stuck behind a large row of taxis with no end in sight. I made a split decision, turned the wheel and drove into a small passageway between two housing blocks. It was a bit of a detour, but with luck much less traffic. My stress levels compelled me to step on the gas harder than was good for me. The last thing I remember from being in 'my' time was flying out of the alley, sunlight reaching just over the roof of the building ahead of me blinding my vision, and a bang. A loud, loud bang. You needn't worry, before I could feel any pain my whole world turned black.

I woke up with sand in my mouth. Sand? How the hell did I end up in sand? I slowly realized that the bright sun was making me uncomfortably warm. I needed to find shade. What happened? A hawk screeched overhead. Where am I? I tried to open my eyes and look around. But the sun and apparent swelling made that very difficult. All I could see was a blurry, barren landscape. Some green was scattered here and there, but my vision wasn't sharp enough to make out whether they were trees or bushes.

There was a darker area, not far from me. I deduced that it must be shade. I tried to sit up, but my head started pulsing so painfully I had to lay back down. After laying on my back for a few more minutes in the scorching sunlight, I tried again. I didn't try to sit up fully, I just turned around on my belly and started crawling. I must tell you, this wasn't a fun experience. My head felt like it was splitting in two. A warm liquid started dripping down the side of my face and the taste of iron in my mouth became apparent.

First, I need to get out of the sun. Then I can try to open my eyes and see where I am. I am ok. I just need a minute. I tried to calm myself, but panic started to build in the pit of my stomach. _where was I?! how did I get here?!_

After what felt like I lifetime, my struggling eyes found a tall tree. It's canopy not really wide, but it would do for now. I rolled onto my back, and let my fingers slowly pass over my face taking inventory of any possible damage. I hissed painfully when I touched my split lip. I felt my eyes. One felt normal, and I found that when I rubbed away the old blood I could open it fully. The other one was swollen shut. The skin surrounding it felt bruised. I followed a bloody trail up my face and felt an open cut on my temple.

I could remember what happened, I thought. I was in my car, taking a detour and then… And then? I don't know. Nothing could explain how I'd got here. I didn't even know where here was.

I wasn't a seasoned survivalist by anyone's definition, but I did know the most important thing for me now was water. I had to drink even before I'd tried to find answers to questions about my whereabouts. Should I call for help? Should I try and find water myself?

The ringing in my ears made it hard to focus. Now, normally I am a rational woman. I rarely make choices without having a well thought out plan, with a back-up plan, and a back-up back-up plan. So I can only believe that my next action was caused by my current state. Because instead of going a productive course which would get me a step closer to getting water, I started crying. Or, more accurately, I started sobbing. Cries started to pour out of me so violent that my whole body was shaking.

I don't know if it was 10 minutes or half a day, but suddenly my cries were disturbed by a low, wet snort. I looked up and saw the outline of two horses with two riders on top. Although I could see much better, I couldn't yet make out the riders faces. Horses. I must be far out of the city if I came across people on horseback.

One dropped gracefully from the saddle and walked over to crouch beside me. Now, much closer I could see a charming young face. It was the face of a young man, with kind eyes.

"Excuse me ma'am, my friend and I were just passing through. And we couldn't help but notice crying. Are you alright ma'am?"

I wanted to answer but the lack of hydration made the sound come out of my throat as a hoarse croak. I saw the boys eyebrows pull together.

"Arthur, throw me the water bottle." I was eternally grateful at the words and I would have given him a smile if it wouldn't have hurt my lip so badly.

"Lenny… We ain't no goddamn charity." I heard a gravelly southern drawl respond. Confused I peered at the rider that still remained on his horse. Surely, providing a stranger a drink wasn't that big of an inconvenience?

The boy sighed and stood up, walking briskly back to his horse. Before I lost hope however, I saw him yank something from the saddle.

"Here ma'am, have this.." when he handed me the water, he walked back and rummage through his saddlebags some more.

I put the leather flask to my lips and drank big gulps. Water fell past my mouth over my chin, down my neck. It was the best thing I ever tasted in my life.

"There, that's better. Now can you tell me your name?" the boy asked while wetting a piece of cloth, and wiping the dirt and blood from my face.

"Caterina.. Or Cat for short."

The boy's mouth shaped into a sly grin. "So, Cat for short.. What feller did you piss off to end up here in the middle of the desert."

My head was still spinning too hard to respond to the gripe in kind. "No one. At least, I don't think. Where am I?"

The grin disappeared as soon as it has formed, instead the boy looked concerned. "You don't know where you are? You are just outside Armadillo."

"Armawhatnow? What do you mean?!" I said, frustrated. Didn't the boy (Lenny was it?) see that I was in no shape to deal with these jokes.

Lenny's face remained serious however. "Armadillo, ma'am. The town, you know?"

When I just stared blankly at him and didn't respond he called back over his shoulder: "Arthur, we can't leave her like this. We have to take her with us."

"Take her with us?! Are you crazy? Listen boy, for all we know she's one of Colm's ladies. You ain't such a fool for a pair of pretty eyes, are ya?"

"If we don't take her with us she will die!"

I could almost hear the shrug in the moment of silence that followed.

"Yeah, maybe she will. Or maybe them O'Driscoll boys will come and pick her up right after we leave."

Lenny's chin jutted out defiantly. "I am going to take her with me. Let Dutch decide. We are on our way north anyway. Worse case we have to move a bit faster than we was plannin'."

The boy stood and reached down a hand for me to grab hold off. "Come on ma'am, we will find out how to get you home."

I looked at the hand hesitantly. Was I really just going to trust these two. Clearly the other man didn't care if I lived or died. But the kindness in Lenny's face was hard to deny, and truthfully was it worth the risk to say no? I might not be so lucky to stumble upon a new stranger kind enough to give me water.

I grabbed his hand and I tried to stand. Not good. My headache spiked and I saw dizzying stars. My forgotten stiletto twisted my ankle painfully and I slumped back against the tree. Lenny ducked and took off my shoes.

In this moment I should have realized the perplexed look he gave my shoe. Just as how I should have realized the strange clothing the boy was wearing. If I had been paying attention I would wonder if I had found myself in the hands of a helpful extra on a movie set. But I didn't. Later I would attribute this to the concussion I got from the car crash. Now however, I remained blissfully unaware of my predicament.

He lifted me by putting a hand underneath my knees and around my back and carried me to his horse. I looked over to his companion, who was draped casually over the horn of his saddle. A cigarette dangling from his lips. His eyes held no emotion when he looked me over from head to toe. When he looked back up, our gazes locked. This was the first time I became somewhat aware of my appearance.

I think this is a good moment to tell you something about what I used to look like. I would be a hypocrite and falsely modest if I told you I was an unattractive woman. I knew the looks men had given me and, to my shame, when I was younger I had used my looks to get me the things I wanted. My body was the result of a combined love for my Mother's Italian cooking and exercise; soft but firm. I had long chocolate colored hair, with large brown eyes.

As many of my fellow full figured ladies will agree with, although it is not a punishment to be blessed with curves, they can however make the most maidenly outfit look positively scandalous with even the slightest adjustment. Here I was, sitting on the back of a horse with my normally knee length pencil skirt hitched up to my thigh, showing the upper lacey rim of my stocking. My pinstripe blue blouse I always kept buttoned up for work, was opened much lower than what I would even consider for a date with a man I really liked.

Red colored my cheeks, when I started fumbling to get myself buttoned up again. I gave a few yanks at my skirt, but only managed to tear the side split further open.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Nothin' we ain't seen before." Arthur replied cynically. I wanted to give him a sneer, which was surprisingly hard to do with one eye swollen shut. Instead it must have come closer to a look of having an allergic reaction. He tightened his jaw and with a swift nudge to his horse's flanks he moved away from me.

I could feel the muscles below me starting to move in kind, and with a quick "Better hold on fast ma'am" Lenny spurred his horse into a gallop.

The effort of holding on was enough to distract me from my environment. The sprawling desert around me, and the horse and carriages that passed me failed to make me realize that I was even more lost than I thought.

We arrived at a cave entrance that was placed within the side of a canyon. From the outside all you see was a few pieces of clothing hanging to dry, a campfire with a spit hanging over it, and a wooden beam was hung between two rock that stuck out from the high stone wall. Arthur and Lenny drove up to it and slung their horses reins over it.

"Can you take care of the horses? I will take Miss Cat for short-" Lenny looked over his shoulder and gave me a wink "-inside to speak to Dutch."

"Like hell you are" Arthur hopped from his horse and gave the boy a sardonic look "Like I am going to miss Dutch his face when we take her inside!"

He pushed the reins into Lenny's hands and said: "Come on boy, you take care of the horses. I will bring her in."

Before Lenny could answer, two large hands folded around my waist and I was unceremoniously dragged from the horse. My stockinged feet struggled to find balance in the hot sand. He grabbed my upper arm and began pulling me to the cave entrance which gave way to a rounded corridor. I was unable to see further than a few feet in front of me and when I started to wonder what kind of people lived in a _cave _I was pulled into an alcove.

Faster than I could think my back was pushed against the hard rock with something that felt a lot like a barrel of a gun to the underside of my chin. The crunching sound it made when it was cocked confirmed my suspicions. I wish I could tell you that I, as strong and self respecting woman, was brave in the face of this immediate danger. I wasn't. With a high squeal I cowed as far away as I could from Arthur's towering body. But the gun followed. My breath hitched in my throat and I felt like my heart would beat out of my chest.

"Now, listen here little lady, there are people inside that cave that are very important to me. And I would die sooner than letting anything happen to them. So, you are going to tell me right now whether or not I am going to regret bringing you in there." His voice a soft, ominous whisper. I'd rather he screamed in my face. Feeling a little less in control as now. His composure utterly calm and dominating.

He would kill me. I knew it as sure as I knew grass is green. He would kill me if I couldn't somehow convince him I meant no harm.

"I… I…" I stammered, unable to think of anything that would sound convincing. "Please.. I don't… I don't even know where I am!" Ok, so that was the best thing I come up with.

He shoved me against the rock again, sparks shot in front of my still imperfect vision. But before he could say anything else I heard a new voice.

"Arthur, you're back! I thought I heard something." The tone was jovial, his words pitching higher in the middle of his last sentence.. "And you brought someone with you?" The man questioned hesitantly.

"Lenny found her.." Arthur said gruffly, his body blocking the other man from view. The pistol still poised to shoot me through the head, causing my neck to crane painfully upwards.

"Well, then.. Let me see." I saw a hand appearing on Arthur's shoulder, who gave me one last hard look and then stepped aside.

It took everything I had to stay upright, but I managed. I eyed the new man warily.

"Oh Arthur, you have no manners. My dear lady, I do apologize for my son's behavior. He can sometimes be a little-" The man seemed to think about his words "-overprotective."

I knew for a fact this man wasn't old enough to be his father. But from the slight straightening shift in Arthur's shoulders I knew it meant something to him to be called his son.

"Let me introduce myself." He held out his hand. When I extended mine to shake it, he pulled it to his lips and planted a kiss on my knuckles. "My name is Dutch, Dutch van der linde."

I was dead on my feet. I knew I had been in an accident, then rode through god knows where to this cave and finally I was manhandled and threatened. I needed to rest. If they would just let me stay the night, I would find my way home tomorrow.

"Nice to meet you, mister van der Linde. My name is Caterina Davis. I am so sorry to be an inconvenience, I will be out of your hair tomorrow. I just need somewhere I can sleep for tonight."

"Please call me Dutch, Miss Davis. You can rest here for the night-" Arthur started to open his mouth to protest. Dutch gave him a stern look and continued: "We would never turn away a woman that needs help. Especially not one as fine as yourself."

I couldn't help but bristle a little at the intended compliment. In my experience, unknown men rarely compliment a woman's appearance because they take them so seriously. But, beggars can't be choosers so I chose to ignore the comment.

"However.." Dutch continued, still sounding friendly but with an off sounding undertone to his voice. "I do agree with Arthur here, that we need to make sure you are not a danger to us. You must understand, don't you ma'am."

Who are these people that they are so scared of a strange woman. I had no idea what dangers they were even thinking off.

"Mister van der linde, or I mean Dutch. I don't really know what to tell you, other than the truth. All I know that I was getting ready for work this morning, had an accident and somehow ended up here. I have no idea where I am, I have no idea who you are. All I know is that my head hurts, I can't see for shit-" Dutch arched his eyebrows up at my language. "- And all I want is just a place to sleep. So could you tell me if I can find that here, because otherwise I'll thank Lenny for helping me and find some other place to stay."

Dutch stared at me for a long time and then said: "I see we find ourselves in quite the conundrum, Miss Davis. The way I see it, is that I have no way to know whether or not I can trust you. This also means, however, I can't just send you back out because god knows who you might end up telling about our location."

Again with the trust, what is it with these people.

"Look, I just want to…" I started, but was interrupted.

"Miss Davis, our plan is to remain here for a bit more than a week. So, you can stay here. We will provide you with a place to sleep, food and drink. Then, when we move, our paths shall diverge again." Without asking for my consent, he turned to Arthur. "My dear boy, would you see to it that Miss Davis gets food and finds a bed for tonight?"

I was too tired, and quite frankly too uninterested because of my pounding head to look around me when I entered the cave. All I wanted was to sleep. I kept my eyes locked between Arthur's shoulder blades and followed him closely. I vaguely remember him speaking to someone and a few minutes later pointing to a ragged looking cotton rectangle. I laid myself down and felt it was filled with hay. I heard him murmur something about food, but before he came back I was already fast asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning memories came to me slowly. At first when I slipped back into consciousness I had forgotten the events of yesterday and stretched out expecting to find my extra pillows. Instead there was stone. And now you mention it, something that smelled suspiciously of hay pricked my nose. I lifted my hands to my face and registered two things simultaneously. My hands smelled of horse, a smell I hadn't smelled for at least fifteen years and secondly that every inch of skin my fingers touched hurt because of bruising.

I let out an involuntary groan when I remembered. Not a dream. I slowly sat up, keeping my eyes tightly closed, expecting the stinging pain in my head to reappear. It was more of a dull ache now, uncomfortable but nothing I couldn't handle. I tried to open my eyes. The one that was swollen shut yesterday, felt even more so today. The other eye however was fine, and I found that its vision was fully restored. All in all, I'd count it as an improvement.

For the first time since waking up in the desert yesterday I looked around me. I was inside a cave, I knew that. My bedroll was sheltered by two large curtains on the side, the open front allowed me to look at the center space.

The middle area was bustling with activity. Women were hunched over wooden basins scrubbing wet clothes. A few men were carrying a large pot inside, that filled the whole space with the smell of porridge. Others sat at wooden tables, playing games, cleaning guns, or just chatting companionably.

Besides the fact that these people were living in a cave, one thing stood out to me. Their clothes. They looked like something I'd only ever seen in old western movies. The women were dressed in large, cumbersome, dresses that cinched tight at the waist and pressed their breasts up high on their chests. The men wore shirts,vests, and pants, which would be so strange if it weren't for the riding boots with spurs and holsters hanging low on their waist. Come on now, some ever wore full on cowboy hats.

Where the hell did I end up? In some strange religious commune? My mother, who immigrated from Italy before I was born, was a rather devout catholic. But that was something that never resonated with me. What if they start chanting and praying? What was I supposed to do then?

I seriously contemplated turning around to go back to sleep again. Wishing this was some strangely realistic nightmare. But before I could, I saw Lenny standing up from one of the tables. He approached me with a large, toothy smile. "Well, look who is finally awake. So nice to have you join the land of the living. Come on out, breakfast has just been brought in."

I took a deep breath, pulled my battered clothes to a more presentable state and crawled out of my small sleeping space with all the dignity I could muster. When I had followed Lenny to a large wooden table and turned to sit, I noticed the suspicious eyes on me. The cave had turned dead silent, and the hostility I felt aimed at me was something I had never experienced before.

I looked up and caught the eye of a small boy who was looking at me with wary distrust, hidden in the skirts of his mother. I tried to give him a comforting smile, but the pain in my lip reminded me I probably looked more like a fierce pirate than anything else. The boys was turned away from me by his mother, who shot me an angry look.

For the life of me, I couldn't understand these people's reactions. And even Lenny seemed to feel a bit self conscious when he yelled with unconvincing bluster. "Come on! 'S not like you never seen a woman before. Back to work with ya!"

But it worked, somewhat. People started going about their tasks again. However their bodies where aimed towards me, I saw more than a few hands twitch over holstered guns. Poised and ready to shoot at any minute now.

"I apologize for my brothers and sister, Miss Cat. Is just, well.." - the boy rubbed his neck - "The last few weeks we have been attacked by the O'Driscolls more than usual. They haven't found out where we are yet. But that's just a matter of time."

In retrospect, I should have asked Lenny who the O'Driscolls were. Maybe that could have prepared me better for what would happen. But at this time, I just didn't care. I was still under the impression that I needed to regain my strength, wait out my week so I would be allowed to leave and then be on my merry way home.

This assumption was shattered immediately after Lenny handed me a newspaper. I knew that the gesture was intended well, he gave me something to focus on, other than the people around me. But the impact was devastating.

I looked at the front page headline: _**Explosion in Factory Saint Denis. Two hundred dead, more injured. **_I turned my gaze to the date in the upper left corner. April 12th, 1899. I did a double take.1899? _1899?! _What was this, some kind of sick joke? Where these people so invested in their little period piece that they even read old newspapers?

"Are you alright Miss Cat? Did you know people there?" Lenny asked. I searched his face for anything that would clue me in this was just a game. Then, slowly images of our ride back to the cave yesterday started dawning on me. Horse and carriages, other people who were dressed the same as these, an old western style town. I needed some fresh air. I needed to breathe.

When I shot up from my seat I didn't fail to notice the reactions of the people around me. Recklessly I ran towards the entrance anyway. I'd still say it was mere dumb luck they didn't put a bullet in me, right then and there. But I made it, through the rounded corridor, out in the bright and punishing sunlight. Out in the desert canyon.

"Jesus christ" I muttered out of breath, while rubbing my hands over my chest. "Jesus _fucking _christ!" My breath started hitching high in my throat, near hyperventilation.

I heard the thud and clink of spurred boots behind me.

"You alright there, ma'am?" Of course he had come to check if I hadn't ran off.

I wheeled around and grabbed the front of Arthur's shirt. "Where am I?!" I yelled in his face.

His steely gaze on my hands and then my eyes were a clear warning to let go. I didn't care. "Where AM I! You Bastard. What sick fucking game are you playing?!" I pushed his chest with all my strength, he didn't move an inch.

"As much as I love to save maidens in distress, especially ones so elegant and fine spoken as yourself, I have other things to do." Already his sarcasm started to get on my nerves.

His one hand encircles both of mine that were still ripping at the fabric of his clothes. "Get. In. Side." He tried to yank me back towards the cave.

"Fuck you, get inside. You get inside! Where am I?!" This moment, Dear Reader, should be taken as proof that when one's panic is worse enough, all eloquence of speech goes right out of the window. Or at least for me.

His hand moved towards his pistol: "I ain't joking, miss. Get yourself in, right now!"

Tears started burning in my eyes. "Please, just tell me where I am. I want to go home." I hugged my arms around me and sank on the ground. I started muttering, mostly to myself. "I just want to be home, in my apartment, in my bed, in 2019.."

"Well, isn't that just grand. We seems to have adopted a basketcase." In the same fashion as yesterday, he grabbed my upper arm and started dragging me towards the camp. "Maybe Lenny was right, you did hit your head pretty hard."

"Arthur, please. What year is it?" Even when asking the question, I dreaded the answer.

Arthur's jaw clenched, I was annoying him. I knew. With a long suffering sigh he said: "It's 1899, ma'am."

It was the truth. Deep in my bones I knew it to be the truth. _Jesus fucking christ._


	4. Chapter 4

The next few days passed in a daze and mostly spend by myself. Not only had I no intention of getting acquainted with my -I thought- temporary campmates, they hadn't been too keen on trying to get to know me either.

What was I going to do? I was alone, completely and utterly alone. These people here with me, might as well have been from a different planet. I knew nothing of their world, their customs, their habits. I had no idea of even how to ask them for help. How does one tell people: "_Hi! I went back in time over a hundred years. Could you please stop hating me for a moment and help me get back home in 2019?"_

But then again, even if I had. I had no idea what it was I needed exactly. I wondered if maybe I was in a coma. That I had indeed hit my head pretty hard. I am not ashamed to admit that I even started listening for the far away voice of my mother, begging me to wake up. But I gave up on that pretty quickly. This world had felt real enough up till this point. And banking my life on the hopes of a coma, didn't strike me as particularly wise.

When my fifth day in the camp started, I had become a serious mess. I was provided with a place to eat, drink and sleep as Dutch has promised. Sadly his hospitality hadn't extended to a bath. My working clothes were torn and gross with all the sweat, blood, and dirt it had absorbed. I had given up on my shredded stockings and walked on my bare feet. I had never imagined it would be possible to amass this much grime on them. And please don't get me started on my hair.

Normally my prized possession, it now hung in greasy and knotted strings around my face. I had tried to comb my fingers through to make it look somewhat decent, but they themselves had been so utterly disgusting, that it only served to make things worse.

I crawled out of my sleeping space to grab myself a bowl of porridge that I smelled was being brought in. The looks of suspicion had started to loose their weight a few days back, but the fact that everybody turned away when I reached the large pot, still stung. Never had I felt like such an outsider.

Lenny had been gone since that day I read the newspaper. It seemed to be the common pattern here; people coming and going. Upon return they always brought something back to put in a box near Dutch's bed. Money, golden trinkets, jewelry, you name it. Anything that seemed I didn't yet know how these items were obtained, but my gut told me it couldn't have been in a good way. The common occurence of blood on their clothes was a huge tip off, though.

I was sitting on the far edge of the camp, eating my breakfast alone and contemplating how I was going to get back home, when a yell echoed in the corridor.

"_Everybody! Get Down!" _

The sound of ricocheting gunshots made my ears ring.

What in the hell?

People around me seemed to freeze in what they were doing. Lenny hurtled into the cave, together with a large bearding man I think heard people refer to as Bill. Their guns pointing behind them, firing shots without aiming.

"Goddamnit! Take cover!" Bill yelled again.

Then everybody seemed to move as one. The men threw over the large wooden tables to use as cover, making the cups and plates scatter across the ground, and started aiming their guns towards the entrance.

The women ran towards the back of the cave and hid behind a large carriage, holding on to each other. They were soon joined by the older, German-sounding gentleman, that I hadn't quite caught the name of and the seemingly permanently drunk reverend Swanson.

"What the hell is going on, Bill?" I heard Arthur yell over the explosive noise made by gunfire.

"They found us! The O'Driscolls, they found us!"

I was still sitting at my table, dumbfounded. What was I going to do? I could do nothing to defend myself. Sure, I had followed some self defense classes a few years ago, but I highly doubted they would serve me here. This was something out of an action movie. Only here, the protagonist didn't just magically survive. No, I needed to do something or else I would be dead.

I decided I needed to hide and fast. I looked over to where the women were hiding. It was too far out. I would have to run right through the firefight.

I ran towards my bedroll. It wasn't the best protection. The only thing I had around me were the large cloth squares, easily pierced by bullets. But I was out of sight. So as long as there wasn't a stray bullet, I might survive this mess.

I made myself as little as possible, fully pressed to the ground, and put my hands over my ears. The loud banging echoing through the cave was enough to make my teeth clatter. Even with my muffled hearing I could pick out Arthur barking orders.

"Micah, flank them on the left."

"Sean, keep your goddamn head down!"

There was a large boom that made the whole cave shudder. Debris from the stone ceiling crumbled down over the back of my head. It sounded like a bomb went off. I heard a loud, agonized wail and men shouting.

The smell of sulphur was thick in the air and everything was covered in a thick blanket of smoke that made my eyes water. I couldn't see much further away then my feet that lay behind me on the floor.

Another boom and the wailing and shouting stopped for a moment. More dust and rock made their way down from the ceiling. For a moment everything was quiet. Then, scrambling feet and the gunfire resumed.

I heard Arthur shout again: "Charles, shoot the big one!"

I couldn't think straight. I could only wish and beg a god who I didn't believe in to keep me alive. Please, I wasn't ready to die. Not here, not now.

Suddenly my protective curtain was yanked open, and a panicked girl ran in. I think they called her Mary-Beth. She pulled it shut behind her. Leaving only a small opening to peer through.

"He saw me!" she cried. "Oh no, he saw me run!"

"What? Who saw you?"

The girl cried hysterically, casting a nervous look through the curtains.

"Johnny.. He is Colm's second. I didn't know who he was, I swear!" Another sob burst from her lips.

I had no idea what she was talking about, but from her state I knew this was really not good.

"Charles! Shoot that goddamn bastard! Now!" I heard Arthur's voice bellow.

Bullets were now flying right over my head, shredding the cloth. I pulled Mary-Beth towards the dusty floor. "Lie down flat!" I yelled. "You'll get shot!"

We laid together. My arm over her back, pressing her down.

I felt something piercing hot graze just over the tip of the shoulder that lay over the girls back and bit back a hiss. It was so very easy to die in this world.

I felt Mary-Beth jerk beneath me. "Stay still! Don't move!" Another jerk and then she was pulled away from underneath my arm. Her scream piercing through the noise.

"I got you now, you bitch!" I heard a deep voice say. It was the type of voice that makes a women's hackles rise instinctively. The voice that, no matter how kind the words, would always carry an undertone of wrongness. Let alone when the words weren't kind.

I looked over my shoulder and saw a mountain of a man hunched over Mary-Beth, still within the confines of my makeshift bedroom, out of sight. His face would've been, well not handsome per se, but definitely passable if it hadn't been for the ugly sneer. His dark hair slicked back with way too much product, giving it a greasy gleem. His shirt was buttoned open low, revealing a thick patch of dark chest hair.

I saw his large hands roping the girls' behind her back.

crawling forwards, I grabbed hold of Mary-Beth's shoulder and started pulling, trying to get her away from him. In my awkward angle I was only able to grab the fabric of her dress and it didn't give me enough purchase to really make a difference.

My hand was hit with the but of a pistol with the arrogance of swatting away a fly. "Leave it! She is mine." He bit out through his teeth.

He turned over Mary-beth's body, starting on her feet and turning his back towards me. Seemingly fully unimpressed. The notion that I could potentially hurt him not convincing enough to at least keep his eyes on me.

My hands felt around me on the floor, searching for something, anything, I could use as a weapon. Then my hand slipped around a large rock.

Why did I do it? You might ask. Why would I stand up, putting myself directly in the line of fire, to save a girl I didn't know? A girl who hadn't so much looked at me without suspicion. Looking back, I think it was for two reasons. One, I couldn't in good conscience let this girl be hauled away by some creep and just stand by. And secondly, maybe foolishly, this was the first situation since I had arrived that felt somewhat recognisable. Like something I knew. Well, minus the gunfire and the actual threat of dying.

But being a woman in the corporate world, being ignored and underestimated by men was something I dealt with on a day to day basis. When I was younger I usually let them get away with it. But with age came confidence in myself and my skill. I didn't take shit from anybody anymore.

So, I pushed myself up to my knees. Then up to my feet. Ducking to avoid being shot in the head. I started moving towards the man, raising the stone high above me and taking aim. I slammed it down, onto his cranium.

Blood started gushing from the man's head, but on instinct I raised my hands once more and hit him again. Then one more time, till the man dropped dead at my feet.

Blankly I started at him and then at the bloodied rock in my hands. I dropped it like it was fiery hot, and stepped back. Dear god. I killed a man. Jesus christ. I killed a man. I thought I would be sick.

Luckily, I was temporarily distracted by Mary-Beth pleas to help her out of the ropes.

My fingers were numb when I started fumbling to free her, clumsily tugging at the frayed knots. I killed a man. Oh god. I killed a man.

When she was free I slumped and fell on my ass. Now it was the girls turn to push me to the ground.

It seemed like an eternity that we were lying there, flush to the stone floor. The barrage of bullets seemingly endless.

But after a while it lessened until I heard Dutch shout: "Hold fire!"

Then there was silence. The loudest silence I'd ever heard.

"I think that's all, men!" Dutch continued.

Several men started whooping and yelling.

"Yeaah!"

"Yee-haw!"

"We showed them son's 'o bitches!"

I was numb, my body and mind motionless. I couldn't feel the rocks pressing in my skin and neither could I think about what just happened.

The curtain was pulled away. Together Dutch and Arthur stared down at us. Then at the dead man that lay right next to us. I knew that if I turned my head I would stare right in his lifeless face.

"What-" Dutch started.

"She saved me, she did!" Mary-beth exclaimed. "Johnny, he came for me. But she.. She saved me!" The happiness and gratitude in her voice made me want to throw up. I would have kept lying there, if they would've let me. As long as I laid perfectly still, maybe time would do the same and none of this would have actually happened.

"Come on up, miss" His voice, although not exactly kind, devoid of the outright suspicious anger it usually carried. "Let's go get you cleaned up now." I looked up towards Arthur's outstretched hand, but I didn't move. He sighed one of his long suffering sighs and bent down. For the second time in my life I was lifted by one arm underneath my knees and one behind my back.

Wordlessly he started to carry me towards the cave exit. You'll excuse me for saying that the place looked like a bomb had gone off, because that was precisely what had happened. Large chunks of rock scattered, making the way out difficult to manoeuvre. The smoke still hung in the air, but now I was happy for it because it obscured me from view. The only thing that pierced the smokey veil was the angry light coming off a few wooden crates that had caught on fire.

"First time?" Arthur said.

I could only nod.

"Yeah, the first time is always rough on anybody. I would say it gets better, but that would reveal my horrifying nature and I am not sure you can handle that right now." A smile cracked his sooth stained face.

He placed me in the saddle of his big, brown horse and hopped on behind me, putting his arms around my waist to hold the reins and spurred his horse into motion.

"Where are we going?" I asked absently.

"To the river, ma'am. Beg your pardon, but you need more than a washing tub right now."

I didn't need to look down at myself to know he was right.


	5. Chapter 5

When we reached the river he guided me down towards the water. It was a secluded spot, in a narrow bend, with some large bushes on both sides hiding it from view. Safe from prying eyes. I started unbuttoning my blouse but stopped to turn towards him.

"Are you going to.." I started uncertain.

He raised his hands in a pacifying motion. "No need to worry, ma'am. I might be as deprived as they come, but a rapist I ain't." He turned and walked a few feet away towards a large rock and sat with his back turned towards me.

I eyed him for a minute, but was soon reassured that he wouldn't secretly look over his shoulder. Quickly I took my clothes off, except for my bra and underpants (you never know) and stepped into the water. The river had a quite a current, making it feel nice and fresh. I waded waist deep and then dropped myself underwater. I don't know what it is about being underwater, but it always makes me feel so tranquil.

I stayed under for a long moment. Just listening to the muffled sound of the water passing by. I felt it pull my hair back, rinsing away the gore. I wished I could stay there forever.

Coming back up for air, I started looking for something I could use to scrub the remaining grime off me. I picked up a rock, but an image of a bloodied one flashed before my eyes and I dropped it. So I settled for my hands.

Cleaning myself so vigorously as if it could wash the stain on my conscience away. I had murdered someone. A real, living, breathing man. I killed him. Evil or not evil, it didn't matter. Neither did it matter that I potentially saved a girl from harm. I ended another human's life. How does one recover from this? How does one forgive themselves this?

The guilt started to spread through me like black ink. I was no longer who I had been. No longer was I just the woman who worked hard for the things she wanted, who was proud of her achievements, and always tried to work things out rationally and peacefully. No, I was now a murderer. Is it possible to both those people at the same time? Is reason enough to justify murder? Does 'me or them' purge you from responsibility?

I didn't know. I did know that I would carry this weight with me, forever. The scar on my soul, on my being, forever visible.

When I figured I was as clean as I was going to get, I started back for the river edge and grabbed my ragged looking blouse and skirt.I scrubbed them together in an effort to make them somewhat presentable again and then twisted the excess water out of them. It was nice to focus on something tangible. It was distracting.

Waiting for my clothes to dry in the now dark was hopeless, so I started the uncomfortable effort of dragging them on wet. It would do. Although I now was much cleaner on the outside, it felt like the dirt had been making its way in. Pasting my inside with grime.

I joined Arthur, standing next to the rock. If he thought anything of my drowned kitten look, he didn't say it. He just kept pensively staring into the distance, pulling out two cigarettes from his pocket and offered me one. I hadn't had a cigarette since college, but this seemed like a time that warranted a moment of weakness. God knows I had many weak moments the last few days. In fact I couldn't remember the last time I was this pathetic, this much out of my depth. This world these people lived in, it was a harsh, unrelenting, and corrupting one.

The split open skull flashed in front of my vision again and I physically flinched. Arthur ignored it and calmly offered me a light. I dragged on the cigarette, letting the harsh smoke burn my lungs. Enjoying the uncomfortable sensation it brought.

"So.. You ain't no O'Driscoll." He stated matter of factly.

"Never said I was."

"You never denied it, neither."

Hadn't I? I tried to think back, and indeed I couldn't remember denying it.

"I didn't feel like I should have to dignify ridiculous questions with an answer." I knew I sounded like a stuck up asshole, but I couldn't help feeling bitter over the harsh treatment they had given me.

Arthur remained silent for a moment. Then his shoulders started to shake a bit, then a bit more, then he let out a hard laugh. "Well, looky here. Ain't you a right Lady Grace and Style. With your fancy words and everythin'."

His laugh was infectious and I don't know how it happened, maybe it was the stress, but I found myself laughing to. It started with a giggle, but soon I found myself crying tears with belly aching laughter.

When I could finally breathe again, I looked at Arthur's twinkling eyes. And for the first time I noticed how very blue they were.

We sat on the rock together for a long while, but didn't say anything. We didn't have to. He occasionally offered me a drink of brandy, which I accepted gratefully. A pleasant buzz numbing my senses.

The first rays of sun crept over the horizon, causing the morning birds to chirp excitedly. The sky was painted in pink and orange. Looking out over the great sandy plain early in the morning, it was truly a sight to behold.

"Why are you being nice to me?" I asked finally.

He gave me an annoyed look. "I am not being nice to you, ma'am."

"Well, you are not the dickhead you were before."

"Dickhead, huh? Is that how all ladies speak where you're from?"

"Don't change the subject. I killed someone, and now you are being nice to me."

He took a long draw of yet another cigarette and picked up his hat that he had laid down earlier, setting it back on his head. The wide rim casting a shadow over his eyes, making him unreadable.

"Well, I figured.. Since you saved one of mine, the least I could do is offer you a bath. 'Sides, in that regard I was doin' us all a favor." His drawling voice mocking me.

I didn't laugh at his quip. Not because I was offended, but because I was trying to figure him out. He was being nice to me, whether he admitted it or not. And I wondered why it made me sad he was only acting this way because I killed a man. Why did I care?

"But I am…" I took a deep breath. I needed to say this out loud. I needed to make it real. I needed to admit the truth not just to myself, but to Arthur, to anybody that was listening, to the world. Like a wound that needs air to heal. "But I am a murderer."

"You ain't no murderer, miss.." When I raised my eyebrow at him, he continued: "You saved that girl. You saved Mary-Beth. Don't you forget that. Do you have any idea what he would have done to her, if that scumbag had his way?"

"But.." I objected.

"None of us in that cave are saints, miss. We are the last people that will hold killing a man to save a girl against you. Many of us did far worse."

"Is that supposed to be comforting?"

He let out a hard laugh. "I suppose not. Nevertheless, it's true."

Arthur stood suddenly and walked towards the river. He bend down on the wet sand, pushed his hat back on his head, and cupping his hands to splash water on his face. He started cleaning his forearms, clearing it from leftover dust and blood.

When he finished he walked over to his horse and motioned me to follow. We were going back, I gathered.

Our ride back was in careful companionable silence. It was a strange sensation to feel with this rough and distant man. But sitting in the confines of his strong arms, it made me feel safe. It took everything I had to keep my head van lolling backwards and resting on his chest.

I hadn't forgotten that he threatened me. I could still feel the steel barrel on my throat. But now, he also gave me what I needed the most. No elated gratitude, no exuberant happiness, no. Silence, a bath and companionship. And it felt nice, I couldn't deny that.

The movement of the running horse, its snorts of exertion, the smell of its sweat and the leather of the saddle, took me back to when I was younger. I had been an avid dressage rider. I stopped when I first went to highschool, because it wasn't _cool. _But now I remembered how much I had loved it, and regretted quitting.

I contemplated saying something about it to Arthur, but I didn't. Afraid to break the easiness of the moment. Let it last for a little while.

The moment was spoiled anyway, the second we arrived back at the camp. The carriage that had stood inside and the women had used for cover, was now in front of the entrance. The flat back was being loaded with corpses. Some were in a worse state than others. Some were 'lucky' enough to only have been shot, others were missing limbs, one body was even without its head. The dusty sand of the desert clung to the sticky, half dried blood, and an almost deafening choir of flies made it difficult to hear anything else.

The carnage made my stomach churn.

Charles came walking out, with a bulky weight on his shoulders. No, not a bulky weight. Johnny. The man I killed.

I recoiled in the saddle. To my surprise Arthur's arms tightened around me, almost to shield me. I didn't want to look, but my guilt made me watch as the dead man's body was being hauled onto the cart. His lifeless arms flopping wide.

A circleling band of shadows were cast over the dead. When I looked up, I saw a group of vultures flying overhead.

"I am sorry, miss. I thought they would've finished by now." The man at my back mumbled.

When I remained silent, he rode to hitch his horse and jumped off.

"Come inside." Arthur stood on the ground next to me, holding out his hand.

But I couldn't keep my eyes of the grotesque spectacle of men chasing away large winged scavengers from a severed leg. The birds chattering angrily at being denied their meal.

"Please.." He said in a low, rough voice and he grabbed my hand gently. "Come inside, miss." I blinked, as if awoken out of a trance.

"Yes.. Yes.. Let's get inside." My efforts to sound unaffected completely nulled by the cracking of my voice.

The inside of the cave had been cleared of smoke, making the damage visible. Fire had burned through the wooden tables and supply crates, leaving ash and a burnt smell in its wake. Stone rubble laid everywhere, making large parts inhabitable. The curtains sectioning off the sleeping areas were in tethers, their edges seared by the heat. Luckily, the dead had all been carried out. Leaving only dried, red stains on the floor and walls of the cave.

The people in the camp were busy cleaning up, going through their stuff to find if anything was worth saving, when Arthur and I walked in. Immediately we were greeted by welcoming cheers, not aimed at the man at my side, but at me.

Three young women in their early twenties surrounded me. I knew their names; Karen, Tilly and.. And Mary-Beth.

"Miss Cat, I will never be able to thank you enough for savin' me." Mary-Beth clasped my hand. "I will be forever in your debt."

"You sure did teach that rats bastard a right lesson, Miss Cat!" Karen cheered.

I cringed. "Please.. I didn't.. I don't.." I was at a loss for words. This was not something I wanted to celebrate.

"Come on, girls. I think Miss Cat is tired and needs a good rest." Tilly eyed me perceptively. She gave me a kind, somewhat apologetic smile when she herded the other two women away.

While looking around the camp I suddenly realised something and turned to Arthur: "I, I forgot to ask.. Did any of you.." I didn't have to finish the sentence, he understood.

"Naw, ma'am.. We're alright." He drawled softly, like I was a horse that needed to be calmed down. I didn't care much for that comparison, and I cared even less for the fact that it worked.

"I do think Miss Tilly was right though. You should sleep. I would say you've looked better, but I think we both know that isn't the case." He grinned at me.

I narrowed my eyes at him, but couldn't fully manage to keep the corners of my mouth from tagging up. His grin broadened at that.

He guided me to my bedroll. But when he stepped through the curtains, my legs froze under me. I didn't want to go back in there. No, no, no.. Not there.. Anywhere but there. He noticed that I had stopped following him and turned around looking at me.

"Maybe not the best place for you now, huh?"

I shook my head.

He looked around and then pointed to another bed. "Here, take mine. I have to help clean up anyways."

When I laid down on his stretcher, I was greeted with a smell I was starting to get familiar with. Horse, leather and cigarette smoke. It was a smell I had started, against all my better judgement, to associate with being safe. It must come as no surprise then, that no sooner had I laid down my head on his pillow, or I was fast asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

I was awoken by a shrill voice: "All right ladies, let's get packin'!" And the answering choir of three annoyed voices: "Yes, Mrs. Grimshaw."

I sat up straight and immediately saw that I was not alone. Arthur's small bedroom had a little square desk and a chair. On that chair sat a man. Dutch.

Instinctively I snatched the blanket up to my chest, even though I was dressed.

"Uhm.. Can I help you?" The question was meant as an accusation, but Dutch just continued to eye me pensively.

I raised my eyebrows up at him.

Finally he spoke: "So, Miss Cat. What is it that you do?"

"Excuse me?"

"What is it that you do? What do you have to add to our little family?" He spread his arms, gesturing to the people going about their business in the cave.

"I am really sorry, sir. But I don't think I understand what you are asking me."

He repeated his question, slowly, like he was talking to a child. Or an imbecile. And added: "Everybody in this family contributes. Either by doing chores in camp, or going out getting us the resources that we need." His voice cracked in that typical way of his I started to recognise.

"Are you asking me… If I want to join you?"

"I am considering if I should let you stay."

Fair enough.

I thought about this for a moment. Did I even want to stay? What else would I do? I still had absolutely no idea of how I would be getting home. And out there? On my own? I wouldn't last a day. Did I even have a choice? No, I didn't think I had.

Dutch and I looked at each other with an intensity I'd only felt before when I was in a really tough negotiation at work. This was a test, but I knew how to play this.

"I can cook" I played my first card.

"We have a cook."

"Your cook is shit."

"At least I know I can trust him."

"I saved one of yours, you know you can trust me too."

"Do I now? For all I know it was some kind of ploy."

"If you really believed that you wouldn't even consider me staying."

"Maybe I am not, maybe I am just trying to see if I can get a confession out of you."

"Oh Dutch, you are smarter than that. You would bait me with something more alluring than _doing chores around camp._" I gave him my sweetest, most innocent smile.

Dutch sat back. A good sign. A grin slowly spreading across his face.

"Something tells me cooking is not the only thing you are good at, Miss Cat." With his elbow leaning on the table, he started stroking his moustache. "I have a feeling you could talk a man out of the last shirt on his back."

I stayed quiet, I had already won. And he needed to reach that conclusion on his own.

"Do you know what it is we do here, Miss Caterina Davis?"

"You'll undoubtedly explain it to me, Mister Dutch Van Der Linde."

He barked out a laugh. "Oh, I like you Miss Davis. I like you a lot." He said while pointing an unlit cigar at me. Without taking his look of my face, he languidly reached into his vest pocket, pulled out a box of matches, struck one under his boot and lit his cigar.

"What you see around here, Miss Davis, is one of the last bastions of freedom in this country."

It took everything I had not to roll my eyes.

"This world is getting more and more _civilized _by the minute." He said the word civilized like it was a profanity, almost spitting it out. "Them rich folk trying to enforce their rules on us. Rules that only work out for them, leaving the rest of us to suffer and starve. What dignity is there to be found in slaving away in a factory twelve hours a day, seven days a week, and still being unable to feed your family. None! And they call it _honorable!_" His face was contorted with disgust.

He banged his hand on the table. "And those goddamn Pinkertons, their little lap dogs. Chasing us like we are criminals because we live outside of their law. What we are doing here, Miss Davis, is fighting them tooth and nail. Opposing the reign of self proclaimed kings and their sycophants."

I had to admit, he did make it sound a lot more alluring than doing chores around camp.

"All they see is how we fight and steal, Miss Davis. But they can't see that we steal from the rich and fight for freedom! And I truly can't think of a more honorable existence than that."

He took a long draw of his cigar, holding his breath for a moment, then blew out a large cloud of smoke. When he placed his hand over his heart, he said: "And I think that you ,if you would have us, would greatly benefit our goal. So, Miss Caterina Davis, would you like to join our little gang of outlaws?" He held out his hand, so to seal the deal with a handshake.

By the earnesty in his voice, I felt like I had just been proposed to. Only I didn't feel like a giddy fresh bride. I already knew I would say yes. But in the face of this much raw honesty, I felt incredibly duplicitous. I would only join them for my own benefit.

This was the moment, Dear Reader, that I made a deal with myself that would unknowingly change me forever. Silently I promised that even though I would only be with them for the time it took me to figure out how to get home, I would -during my stay- be fully committed to these people and their goals.

I shook his hand.

"Excellent, Miss Davis. Now, start packin'. We have a new camp to find!"

The long trek up north was excruciating. My clothes, which I had been wearing since I first arrived in this world, had well and truly fallen apart. But after hours of being jostled in the back of a carriage, I didn't care anymore.

I hadn't seen this cart before, so I assumed they must have stolen it. That probably should have concerned me, but after the conversation with Dutch it didn't. After that passionate monologue, you'd almost believe that the very act of sitting in the back of a stolen wagon was one of the most honorable things I'd ever done in my life.

I was a bit sad though, that they hadn't stolen one that had a covered back as to provide a little shadow. The sun was unbearingly hot, and I felt my skin burning. Sweat beaded on my forehead and back.

We were on our way to Blackwater, wherever that may be. I was hopeful about going north though. It meant we were moving away from the scorching desert. Already I could see the landscape change. Although still arid, more and more leafy green trees started coloring the world.

When we started to follow the river, which provided a wonderful refreshing breeze, my mood started to lift considerably.

"Miss Cat.." Tilly started timidly. "Now you are, well, one of us. I think it would be time to get you some new clothes."

I gave her a wry smile. "I think you are right, Miss Tilly. If I keep walking around in these rags, I'll be fully naked by the end of the week."

She laughed. "And we wouldn't want that." She wriggled her eyebrows at me, causing me to join in laughter.

"What's so funny?" Lenny rode up to the side of the carriage.

"We were just discussin' Miss Cat bein' naked, is all." Tilly's grin grew wider.

The boys cheeks flushed furiously, and he quickly spurred his horse forward.

I heard a soft chuckle behind me, and when I turned I saw Charles trying to hide his smirk and he gave me a wink.

The difference in these people's attitude towards me was night and day. The suspicion had completely shifted to an open determination to get to know me, their new family member. Which I could really appreciate, were it not for the difficulty of fending off questions about where I came from. I doubted they still be this welcoming if I openly admitted to time travel.

Some questions were easy, like when Karen asked me where I'd learn to cook.

"Well, my mother immigrated here from Italy and she loved to cook."

"Finally.." she groaned. "No more of that army food!" When Pearson started to protest from a few horses back, she batted her eyelashes at him: "Ooh, Mister Pearson, don't be upset. Who knows, maybe after eating well for a time we will start missing bland stew!"

Others were more difficult. Although it started out easy enough with little Jack asking me where I came from.

"I am from Staten Island, New York. Have you heard off that?"

His eyes grew wide. "So far away?!" He exclaimed. I realized when he said that, that someone would ask me how a girl from so far north came to be so far south.

And indeed, Bill rode up when he heard and asked exactly that.

"Ehm.. I had a family relation who I was visiting."

"And they just left you in the desert?" Abigail asked horrified.

"We.. Err.. We had a falling out." I said with a shrug. Feeling guilty over the compassionate looks and squeezes they gave me, I changed the subject.

"Where is Arthur?"

Mary-Beth and Tilly shot each other a knowing look. "He's gone ahead, scouting for the right location to set up camp. Don't worry, he'll be back. Arthur is always there if you need him." Mary-Beth said with a smirk

I furrowed my brows. "I'm sorry, I don't understand this-" with my hand I indicated the space between the two girls "- whatever this is."

"Oh, don't worry honey. We all have had a little crush on Arthur when we first joined. By now, one would call it tradition." Tilly said sweetly, too sweetly.

"I don't have a crush on Arthur." I said with genuine surprise. This only caused the girls to fall into a fit of giggles and I realised that denying it was not only pointless, for them it would only help prove their case.

So I just rolled my eyes, and turned my attention to little Jack. Asking him to read me one of his story books. He obliged excitedly.

We had traveled for a full two days when we finally veered off the main road and down a winding path to a pebbled beach alongside the river.

Micah, who had joined Arthur in his scouting expedition, had ridden back to meet us and guide us to the spot they'd chosen.

It was a lovely spot. To one side was a high river bank, providing protection from the elements and prying eyes, and to the other side was the broad winding river. Providing water to drink, bathe, fish and wash in. The wind was rustling through the bright green trees when we arrived. Their canopy protecting us from the sun.

Micah had informed us it was only a fifteen minutes ride south of Blackwater, a city with enough _business opportunities_ to last a few months.

It was a great place for a camp.

That these people were used to travel, I had guessed, but the efficiency with which they set up camp was still amazing. Not one hour later, the tents were set up, a fire pit was build, a place to keep the horses, and the cookingstand was up and fully functioning.

Tilly and Mary-Beth had invited me to sleep with them in their tent, which I gratefully accepted. When we were done arranging our bedroles and their clothes, Tilly pulled out a long dress. It was a relatively simple one. A full, dark grey skirt, white top, with a high laced neck. A green tartan belt had been tied around the waist.

"You can have this, if you want." She said with a kind smile.

"Ohh Tilly, that's really nice. But you are a lot slimmer than me, I don't think it will fit."

"That's where this comes in." She dangled a corset in front of me.

"Oh no, that is never going to happen." I said decidedly.

The girls looked at each other confused. "You don't wear a corset?" Mary-Beth asked.

I immediately realised that I screwed up. Every woman wore a corset in this time. "That.. That's not really a thing were I am from." At least it wasn't a lie.

"Oh, that must me marvelous, never having to were one of those stupid things." Tilly said dreamily.

"Well, if you don't want to wear them, nobody's forcing you to. Right?"

The girls looked from me to each other with gaping mouths, fully scandalized.

"You are right! Off with the corset!" Mary-Beth yelled loudly, then clasping her hands over her mouth afraid someone might have heard her. "But first, let's get you into this dress!" she said, when she had calmed down her giggling.

It was a little tight. But surprisingly it fit. The girls admired their handiwork, when Tilly said: "Cat, would you mind it if we'd do your hair?"

My hair hadn't had a proper comb through since I got here, and it looked closely related to a rat's nest at the moment. So I told her that I wouldn't mind at all.

They went out to get a bucket of water and some soap, and when they returned they got to work.

Their delicate hands softly combing out the tight knots that had began to form, smoothing out the frizz on top of my head and then asked me to lean over the bucket so they could wash. It felt incredibly luxurious being fussed over like this.

When they squeezed out the excess water, Tilly said excitedly: "Wait! I have something!" and started rummaging through her stuff. She pulled out a little vial and when she pulled the cork off the top, the whole tent started to smell like roses.

"Javier got me some rose oil, last time he was in camp." She said proudly, while pouring out a few precious drops onto the palm of her hand. She rubbed her hands together and then started massaging it into my hair.

I suppressed a groan. I hadn't felt this good in a long time. I was finally in clean clothes, with clean hair.

They made a simple side braid in my hair and just when I started to thank them, Mary-Beth handed me a pair of thick cotton stockings and sturdy boots. I thought I'd cry.

I pulled them both into a hug and said: "Thank you, you have to idea how good I finally feel."

Tilly pulled me towards a little table that had a hand held mirror on it. "You can't see the dress, but at least you'll know what your hair looks like."

I looked in the mirror and realized I hadn't since my car crash. I still had some yellow bruising around my eye, and a scab on my temple, but all in all, I looked quite alright.

"My hair looks amazing, girls. Truly, thank you."

"Don't mention it, you silly goose. That's what family is for, isn't it?" Mary-Beth waved my comment away with a casual sway of her hand.

I looked at them, and understood that for these people they truly were each other's family. Not by blood, but by something stronger. Commitment and choice was what kept these people together.

I thought about my mother, and suddenly was hit by the bittersweet pang of feeling homesick. My father had died when I was very young, too young to even remember him. The only things I knew about him were what my mother had told me about him. She referred to him as a hurricane. He was dashing and when he came and swept my mom off her feet, she knew this would be the man she was going to marry. Six months later she got her wish. They had a tumultuous marriage, passionate on all accounts. I was born a week after their first year anniversary.

My father got into a drunken bar fight, when I was a little older than two. The man he was fighting had pulled a knife and stabbed him in the gut. He was dead before the ambulance arrived.

My mother remarried a few years later. To Marcus, a man who had recently lost his wife, and had two children. And although my mom really tried, I never felt I really fit in with them. Especially when Marcus and my mother had another daughter.

I moved out at eighteen and moved across the country to attend university. The contact between my mother and me became scarce. I didn't, and still don't, blame my mother. She loved me, and I loved her. I just wanted her to be happy and I knew she wished the same off me. I really wished I could speak to her now. She would tell me I am just like my father. A wistful smile curved my lips.


	7. Chapter 7

That night I learned of a tradition of the Van Der Linde gang. When a new camp is set up, it needs a christening if you will. A ceremony that makes this place their new home. And how better to go about that, as a band of outlaws, then getting stupidly drunk while singing and dancing.

They were gathered round a campfire, where Javier was playing guitar and sang a wild Spanish song. He used his rings to slap a rhythm on the guitar, between the plucks on the strings. Giving it an almost feverish tempo. Karen and Sean tried to keep up with their dancing, but failed miserably. Under wild cheering and hooting of the rest of the camp, they collapsed in a laughing heap.

From the ground Sean held up a bottle of whiskey and yelled "Sláinte!" before planting a wet, sloppy kiss on Karen's mouth.

The others seemed to understand, cheered, and clink their bottles together.

The evening was made even more exciting by the return of a few camp members I hadn't met before. They had gone out on a job before I was brought in by Lenny and Arthur. And only now had caught up with us.

I was introduced to them by Dutch, who told me their names were: Jennie, Mac, Davey and Hosea.

"This woman, ladies and gentlemen, is going to lay the world at our feet!" Proclaimed Dutch loudly when he introduced me. Loud enough for the whole camp to hear.

People started toasting in my name and I just wish there was a hole in the ground that would swallow me whole. Luckily, they moved on pretty quickly. Except for the eyes of Molly O'Shea. I could feel them burning holes in the back of my head.

_Relax- _ I wanted to tell her. -_I'm not after your man._

Involuntarily my eyes flicked over to where Arthur was sitting. He was sitting half turned away from me on a log, bend forward, leaning on his knees. He was twisting a beer bottle between his hands.

He was not wearing his usual vest and coat, leaving him only in his shirt. And pants of course. Get your mind out of the gutter, Dear Reader. My eyes followed the long line of his shoulder to the rotating beer bottle in his hand, the muscles in his strong forearms twisting with the movement.

As if he could feel my gaze, he turned his head and looked straight at me. For a second our eyes locked, and just when he started to lift his beer bottle in a greeting gesture I looked away.

Damn it, I made it awkward. I looked back, and again met his stare, this time right at the moment I wanted to give him a smile he quickly cast down his eyes, uncertain.

These type of interactions are strange, because you can't tell the other person: "Oh sorry, I hadn't meant to look away and leave you hanging. It was just bad timing on my part." No, these situations would just be ignored, and maybe if you were lucky, repeated another time. But you had to be careful with that, you can't keep staring at the other person, like a lunatic. No, it needed to be stealthy. Because otherwise you would let the other person on you are trying to get contact, and that _wasn't the case at all of course. _Not that I wanted contact with Arthur. I just felt bad because I made him feel awkward.

I took a deep gulp of my beer, trying to drown my frustration, when I felt a person sitting down on a wooden stool next to me. Close, too close. The smell of sour whiskey, cigar smoke, and unwashed male penetrated my nose. It was all I could do, to keep it from wrinkling up in disgust.

I looked up at the man and saw it was Micah. His greasy, thin, blond hair stuck to his sweaty face. His patchy, wispy beard encircled a mouth with thin lips and yellowed teeth. He didn't look like the most appealing person to be around, but I hardly knew him, so I tried hard not to judge and gave him a friendly smile.

He leaned over, bringing the horrible smell even closer, and said in a low voice, while licking his lips: "How much?"

"Sorry?"

"How much for the night. I will show you a good time, sweetheart." He gave me something that I thought had to be a seductive, crooked, smirk.

Ok, now I judged.

"Excuse me?! Tell me you didn't just asked me that!" My voice raised in indignation.

His eyebrows angled low, and he bit out: "Shut up bitch, we all knew you were a whore. I am just here to give you the opportunity to make yourself useful." He raised his hand and groped my breast.

I didn't think, just lashed out. My hand struck his cheek, causing his head to snap to the side. Righteous anger seething through my veins. How. Dare. He.

He stood up, with the crazed expression of a man who is ready to kill with his bare hands, and started towards me.

Before I could react, I saw an arm reaching around his neck, taking him down to the ground in a chokehold.

"You disgusting parasite!" Arthur yelled. He was laying on his back, with Micah on top of him. The latters face started to color purple with a combination of rage and lack of oxygen.

"Arthur! Arthur!" Hosea came running and started prying the arm loose from around the blond man's neck. "Let him go!"

Gradually Arthur listened to the older man, releasing his hold. When Micah had enough air to breathe, he gasped loudly. But instead of giving up, he flipped over, straddled Arthur and started pounding his face.

"You can't win from me, old man!" He yelled, spittle flying out of his mouth. "If you wanted to take the whore first, all you had to do was ask!"

"Micah!" Hosea said shocked.

I saw red. I ran forwards and started yanking on Micah's jacket, trying to pull him off. It didn't work. I tried the chokehold I'd seen Arthur do before, but I wasn't strong enough to really have an impact. He just kept hitting and hitting. The blood flying off his knuckles every time he drew them back only to let them fly down towards Arthur's face.

I was jerked out of the way by large hands and Charles lifted Micah off with ease, pulling him away. "I got this, Miss Cat. Leave it." Charles said in a low, angry voice. He threw Micah over his shoulder and started towards the river.

Arthur coughed hard, and I focused my attention on him. His face was a bloody mess. He turned his head to the side to spit out blood.

_Jesus._

I sat next to his head, hesitating to touch him, not wanting to hurt him more. "Arthur, are you alright?"

He groaned. "I will kill that maggot!" then another wheezing cough left him. He tried to sit up, but I'd put a hand on his chest, pushing him down.

"We first need to see the damage."

"That weak son of a bitch can't hurt me! I am fine!"

"Arthur, please. Lay still for a moment. Just let me check."

He looked at me then, giving me a hard stare. Finally, his eyes softened. "Fine. You check. But I'm tellin' ya, that little bitch ain't strong enough to hurt me."

I barely contained my eye roll. "I am sure your steel bones haven't even been dented. Nevertheless, I would like to see for myself." I looked up at Hosea and said: "Get me a bucket of water and some cotton rags. I need to clean the blood away so I can see how he's doing."

"It's not kind to mock a man when he's down." Arthur told me earnestly.

"I didn't realise I was. I thought you were fine."

A smile tugged his lips. "You are a mean woman, ain't ya?"

"The meanest." I reassured him, while softly wiping the hair from his forehead.

Hosea returned and I dunked the first strip of cotton into the water, letting it soak. I started cleaning Arthur's face as gently as I could. We were completely silent, Arthur just kept a steady gaze on me while I worked. I wondered why it felt so intimate, I was just helping the man who helped me. But apparently I wasn't alone in feeling so, because Hosea let out an uncomfortable cough and excused himself.

I put the rag back into the bucket to rinse out the blood when Arthur tugged at my skirt and said: "You almost look like a normal woman, in that dress."

I frowned at him. "I am a normal woman, with or without the dress." I heard the implication as soon as the words left my mouth and flushed. "I didn't mean.."

He laughed. "I am sure you're a woman through and through ma'am, but normal you ain't. I've never met anyone like you before."

"What? A woman who constantly finds herself in need of saving?"

His lips still in a smile when he answered: "Well, I do like myself a good damsel in distress. Especially one fire breathin' like yourself. But no, that wasn't my meanin'. I don't know, miss. You carry yourself different."

I didn't answer. What was there to say? _Well, I wasn't raised with the idea that I am inferior to men instilled on me from my first breath. _No, it had no use having that conversation now. So I continued my task.

"Thank you.." I murmured softly.

"For what? For this?" He gestured at his face. "Naw, ma'am. I take every opportunity to give Micah a good beatin'."

"Looks like you were the one taking a beating though."

He adopted a mock hurt expression and placed his hand on his chest. "Again with the mocking a man when he's down. " But then his face turned more serious: "And 'sides, Micah ain't seen the last of this yet."

When I finished cleaning his face and to my surprise had to admit that he was indeed fine, barring a few scrapes and a nasty gash on his eyebrow, I called over Lenny and Bill to help him to his bed.

The men bent down, each to grab an arm, but he waved them away. "It ain't that bad, boys. I can take myself to bed."

I felt my jaw tighten, but I kept my mouth shut. If he insisted on being stubborn, who was I to stop him.

I watched him stumble towards his tent, sit on his stretcher and before laying down call out to Lenny: "Hey! Be a kind feller and hand me a bottle of whiskey, would ya.'

When Lenny had dropped off the bottle, he closed the curtains around Arthur's bed. Giving him a bit more privacy.

Why was it so hard to keep myself from fussing over him? I couldn't explain the irresistible urge to check on him again. But I didn't, I had to grind my teeth, but I stayed where I was.

The following morning when I woke up early, I saw that Tilly and Mary-Beth were still fast asleep. I had gone to bed not long after Arthur, so I wasn't in such a bad shape. The same could not be said for the other members of the camp though.

When I opened the curtain of the tent and went outside, I was greeted by a wonderful chilly morning breeze rustling the leaves, causing the sun to cast intricate shiny patterns across the water. The first birds were singing with the slow rumbling of the river as a steady bassline. The beautiful song was interrupted though by heavy snoring. I looked around me and saw people scattered about in crumpled heaps.

I stepped over Uncle and the Reverend who held each other in a tight embrace. Flies edging the rim of the brandy bottles, dangling loosely in their grip. And I started towards the cooking stand. Rummaging around until I found a block of cheese and eggs. No meat, herbs, or salt, but it would have to do.

With some struggling, and silently cursing that I refused to be in the girl scouts when I was younger, I managed to light a fire. I hung the large pot over it and cracked the eggs in them. Let me tell you, making scrambled eggs without grease or a good frying pan is quite the challenge.

While stirring the eggs vigorously to make sure they wouldn't burn, I thought to myself that I really needed to learn how to survive in this world. I hated being dependent on others for my immediate survival. Of course you are stronger in a team, there is nothing wrong with that, but I wanted to bring more to the table than cooking and cleaning up wounds. Having to scurry away and hide at the first signs of danger, it just didn't sit well with me. I wanted to learn how to take care of myself. Also, I knew my time with these people was limited. Sooner or later I had to go out on my own, in order to get back home.

I started chopping up the cheese into small chunks and added them to the pot, letting it melt and create a wonderful gooey texture. It started to smell really nice, and I noticed the people around me slowly waking up.

"Por favor, senorita.." Bill said with a heavy american accent. "gimme some of that!"

"You are like an angel that came down from heaven!" Karen's southern twang sounded.

Even Pearson came up to the fire, sniffing at the pot. "It's not how I would've made it, but I guess it's alright."

"Grab yourself a bowl and some bread, and be my guest!"

When Charles came walking up I jerked my chin up and asked: "What did you do with that scumbag?"

He shrugged. "Dutch send him out on some job or another. Giving everybody some time to cool off." He gave me a pointed look and continued: "Look, I know he ain't nice. But he is part of this camp. So you need to learn how to live with him."

"I need to learn how to live with him? He was the one bothering me."

"And trust me, Dutch gave him a good chewin' out for that. Now you need to let it go."

I knew that if I said something then, I would regret it later. I wasn't angry with Charles, even if he was being callous. It's a different time. Women were good for cleaning and making babies or at least used for the process of making babies. Still, it stung. The implication that I was being dramatic hurt. I knew I couldn't just let it go, but I also knew that starting a fight over it now wouldn't help me at all. I had to be strategic about this.

I scooped some egg onto a plate and started towards Arthur's tent.

Halfway I changed my mind and turned around, walking a few steps back, and then turned around again. _Don't be ridiculous, he is wounded because of you. The least you can do is bring the man some breakfast. _Determined I made my way over to him.

I found him still sleeping. His face and body relaxed, and for the first time I had an opportunity to really look at him, study his features. Underneath the bruises he'd obtained yesterday, he had a handsome face. But life had been tough on him.

I estimated he was only a few years older than me, but being out in the sun so much without sunscreen, had caused his skin to age more. He had light wrinkles around his eyes, and forehead. Yet, somehow it only added to make him more interesting. This man had lived a life. And for some reason I wanted to know everything about it, hear every story he had to tell.

He shaved recently. The shorter trim of his beard, or now more a five o'clock shadow, revealed a scar on his chin. My hand twitched with the urge of running a finger over it.

Before he could catch me staring like a creep, I bent over to softly shake his shoulder.

He let out a groan, and turned his head down into the pillow. I shook his shoulder again.

"Arthur, wake up. I brought breakfast."

He peeked up at me, then turned around to his back and stretched, yawning loudly. "If this is out of gratitude, remind me to save you more often."

"Oh, don't make me regret it." I tried to give him a stern, warning look, but couldn't fully suppress my smile.

"A beautiful woman fussin' over me, seeing to my every need. Now, this I could get used to." He said with a wicked grin.

"Ok, that's it." I turned around and started towards the tent opening. "I will eat these myself."

"Naw, I'm just playin' with ya." But I still moved away, holding the plate above my head, giving him a teasing look over my shoulder.

"Get back here.." He grabbed the fabric of my skirt and pulled back causing me to stumble. I let out at squeal and laughed loudly. He pulled again, until I ended up sitting on the edge of his bed. My lower back pressing against his hip bone, with only his blanket between us. I felt red creeping on my cheeks. _jeez, I was acting like a blushing schoolgirl. I had been far more intimate with men before. What was wrong with me?!_

He acted casually, when he grabbed the plate out of my hands and started eating. But the flush on the bridge of his nose told me otherwise.

Hesitating for a moment about what to do, I cleared my throat and seated myself on the chair next to his bed. I watched him eat a while and then said: "I want you to teach me how to shoot."

He didn't look up from his plate. "Sure, and afterwards I'll teach you how to rob a train too."

"Can you please be serious for a moment?" I sighed.

"Can you?" He shot back, now looking at me with an arched eyebrow.

I folded my arms across my chest. "Do I look like someone who isn't serious?"

"Well, right now you is lookin' like a right crazy woman." He stared at me long and hard, but I held his gaze steadily, unwilling to back down.

"No." He threw the plate with half eaten eggs on the table next to me, as if the thought of me holding a gun had suddenly made him lose his appetite. "Absolutely not."

I furrowed my brow. "Why not? Why is it so inconceivable for me to learn how to shoot. How to defend myself?" He was being completely unreasonable.

His voice became louder in annoyance: "And then, huh?" He threw his hands up. "And then, you thinkin' you're all fierce 'n wild and wantin' to ride with the men? You'll get shot within a minute."

"Nobody's talking about riding with the men. I just want to feel safe." I could feel my composure slipping. My voice pitching up to match his volume.

He grunted and waved dismissively. "You are safe!"

"I wasn't yesterday!"

"I was there, wasn't I?"

"But, you are not always going to be there. Are you." I said accusatory.

He flinched back as if I had struck him. "Nothin' will ever happen to you, while you are part of this family." He spoke softer now, hurt in his voice. I knew I struck a nerve implying this family didn't take care of each other. But I couldn't quite tell him I wasn't going to be part of this family forever, now could I.

I moved my hands in a placating gesture. "I know that. I just want to be safe in knowing I can defend myself if necessary."

"This conversation is over." He reached over to take the now cold food from the table. "Now, can a man please eat his breakfast in peace?" His eyes moved from me to the entrance of the tent. Clearly telling me to scram.

"I could just ask one of the other men to teach me." I said in a last effort.

"Yeah, good luck with that." He started shoving the remainder of his food into his mouth, looking anywhere but at me.

What a mule headed bastard. This conversation wasn't over. Far from it. But I knew a lost fight when I saw one, and decided to retreat.

I spend the remainder of my morning cleaning the cooking stand, and preparing for dinner. I'd asked Charles if he would mind doing some hunting, which he didn't. And I'd send Sean and Karen to pick up some flour, cheese, tomato, and herbs from the store in Blackwater.

Arthur was resting on one of the logs near the campfire. He would glance at me occasionally, and when our eyes locked, we would both look the other way. This time it wasn't awkward bad timing. I could see he was still mad, and quite frankly so was I.

That evening I introduced the camp to pasta with grilled pork. It was a great hit. I knew not only because of the many compliments I received and the fact that the pot was scraped clean within 15 minutes, but also because the next week I was brought the ingredients every day without asking.

One late afternoon I was teaching Jack and John how to make pasta. Jack because he was excited to learn, John because Abigail had forced him to spend some time with his son.

"Ok, so now start combining the egg with the flour" I told Jack who was standing on a wooden crate so he was high enough to reach the work bench. His sleeve dropped back down, so I rolled it back up again. "John, if you could help with the kneading? It might be a little too much for Jack."

"'S not too much!" The boy protested, making me smile. I ruffled my hand through his hair and said: "Oh, I am so sorry. I will never underestimate you again! Show me those muscles!" I growled at him while flexing my arm, and he followed in kind.

"Well then, John. Would you mind cutting off a piece of pork shoulder and throwing it on the fire?"

He tipped the rim of his hat. "Not at all ma'am."

John had kept his distance from me for a while, and I hadn't really tried to approach him either. This was the first time we had spent more than ten seconds near each other.

I looked as I saw the man grabbing a skinned pork corps that had been hung upside down, and started cutting of pieces of meat.

"Is one shoulder enough? The past few nights everything was gone within a few minutes."

I considered it for a moment and then agreed: "Maybe two is best."

I was surprised with myself how much I actually enjoyed the cooking. But it was so wonderfully simple and straightforward. If it tasted good, you'd done good. Nothing more to it. It also allowed me to live the life of an outlaw, without the physical danger or having to deal with more blemishes on my conscience. I knew I was being a hypocrite, because everything I used while in camp, either was stolen or was bought with stolen money.

I also knew that it wouldn't be long for Dutch to ask me to take on some 'reconnaissance jobs' as he called them. Jennie had explained to me that new crew members weren't asked to do any stealing themselves in the beginning. "No need to worry, you just have to go into town and look for some good opportunities. Someone else will take care of the rest."

It was a way of introducing somebody to 'the life' without roundhouse kicking them off the deep end. Truly, as a HR manager, I had to admire this strategy of easing someone into a new line of work. Still, I dreaded it. I could still hear Dutch his passionate speech about how they choose to live, and still very vividly remembered the promise I made to myself. But it's a very different thing thinking about it and having to actually do it.

For now however, my main concern was that Jack's pasta dough was kneaded enough to start rolling it out.

At dinner that night, there was a cheerful vibe going through camp. Lenny, Bill, Davey, Sean, and Mac had successfully robbed a stagecoach. Bringing in enough bounty to last the camp at least two months. They were vague on the details, but said that nobody had seen them, so they would be safe from bounty hunters.

Now, Dear Reader, I wasn't stupid or naive. If five men robbed a stagecoach at gunpoint and there was no risk of bounty hunters. I knew what that meant. A feeling of unease settled in my stomach. that feeling only worsened when Karen put her hand on my shoulder and said:

"Cat! Look, I've been doing some thinkin'."

"Not too hard I hope." Davey yelled from across the fire.

Karen laughed but shot him the finger anyway. She turned her attention to me again: "No, seriously. I was thinkin' you only have one dress. I've seen you messin' about trying to scrub it clean while you is bathing in the river. It just won't do. We have to get you some more clothes!"

"That's really sweet of you, Karen. But I have no money to buy a dress, so I am afraid I will have to make do for a little longer." Thinking that was that, I turned myself to my dinner again.

"I was not talking about buying you a dress." Her tone was conspiratorial, and when I looked her in the eye again she wriggled her eyebrows. "There's this real fancy dressmaker in town and I was thinkin' this would be a fine first job for you!"

I laid my fork and knife on the table. Frowning I asked: "I thought we only stole from the rich?"

She shrugged. "I am sure a man with a store is a whole lot richer than we are."

I shook my head: "I am really sorry Karen, but I don't think that's for me." I could see she was a little offended that I'd rebuffed her idea, but this was not what I'd bought into.

I looked around and caught Dutch staring at me from across the fire. From his intent gaze I could tell he had heard the entire exchange. I was wondering if he'd say anything, but before he could he was distracted by Molly draping herself over his lap.

I couldn't reconcile how I knew these people, as kind and fiercely loyal, with how they were in the outside world. I had never seen them in action and I couldn't even imagine what it would look like. I realised they didn't do the things they did despite of their loyalty, but because of it. The survival and well being of the group superseded any moral issues they might have with stealing or even killing.

Looking at the people around me, I saw a family. They loved each other, they laughed with each other, playfully teased each other. They would happily steal, lie, cheat, kill, or even die for each other. And they now saw me as one of them. And some part of me felt like I was one of them. I mean, I had already killed for one of them. Would stealing really be that bad?

"Karen!" I called after the woman. She looked back, expressionless. "When?" was all I said and her face lit up.


	8. Chapter 8

Two weeks had passed with no word. Karen had promised to let me know when a new shipment of dresses had arrived, which would be the perfect moment according to her.

I'd settled into a rhythm with these people. Pearson took responsibility for breakfast and lunch, and I took care of dinner. Which meant a day of planning, preparing and sending people out for errands.

The first few days after our fight, Arthur had kept his distance. Even taking it so far as to wait for me to leave my station near the food, before he grabbed something to eat. It was silly really, to fight this long over something relatively minor, and I'd tried to tell him so a week ago. But the moment I opened my mouth he turned away. I wanted to stomp my feet and yell after him he was acting like a child, but the irony wasn't lost on me, so I'd kept my mouth shut and my foot still.

Then Strauss had approached Arthur. I eyed them standing at the edge of camp, Arthur's large body looming over the small Austrian man. After a while, Arthur had given the small man a curt nod and he'd stalked towards his horse. He'd been gone since. The rigid line of his shoulders when he walked towards the bay gelding, had made me want to ask what was wrong. But our petty little conflict kept me from it. And it made me resent how things had taken course.

I prided myself for being a down to earth, rational woman. It was a composure that had taken me years to fully master, and finally I'd done it. But since I was here, I could feel it slipping. As if this rough world acted like sandpaper, scraping away at any niceness or softness it came across.

Tiny conflict had the same effect as pouring water on a grease fire. My temper just erupted. Not just with Arthur. I'd given Uncle a good verbal beating when he tried to stick his finger in the pan before it was done. John had accidentally bumped into me while I was carrying a large piece of venison meat, and I'd screamed that if he didn't plan on using his eyes, I might as well cut them out. Yes, Dear Reader, I think you and I can both agree. These were not my finest moments.

And still, somehow, these people accepted me wholly. Sure, they made fun of me about it, coming up with the nickname _HellCat. _But that was it. They didn't treat me any different than the other camp members.

Their acceptance was almost enough for me to just let my own behavior slide, and to not work on it. But in the end, it wasn't who I wanted to be. And who I wanted to be shouldn't be dependent on the acceptance or rejection of others, only my own. Besides, from a practical standpoint, screaming and cussing isn't really the smartest way to go about things. It rarely solves the problem at hand, mainly because you lose all willingness of cooperation of the other party.

For example, when you tried to convince a certain someone to teach you how to shoot.

Nevermind that is a bad example, I mean, if the other party is more obstinate than a goddamn tired mule, even with the patience of a saint it would be difficult to persuade said person.

"They are here!" Karen came running up at me excitedly. I put down my large cutting knife, laying it flat over the wild onions Javier had brought me this morning. "What is here?" So caught up in my own work, I'd completely forgotten about the promise I'd made her.

"The dresses" she said the words like a tv presenter announcing an important guest on stage, splaying her hands wide down her sides.

Do you know that feeling when you've been caught in a lie. Yes, Dear Reader, you too have lied sometimes in your life, I know you know what I mean. The feeling that the blood rushes from you head, causing your ears to ring? The immediate tight coil in your stomach, and the cold sweat on you back? Yes? That's exactly how I felt in that moment.

I knew it was part of my life if I stayed with these people, almost like a tithe I had to pay for safety. And even more than that, I had started to grow close to them. They adopted me as a new family member straight away, and I wanted to do right by them. But, my god did I not want to do this.

I could lie to myself, telling me that it would be just this once. But I knew, that wouldn't be the case. It was the only way to make a living for these people. It was the only way to keep the family running and everybody fed. I would have to learn to deal with it.

I took a deep steadying breath. "Ok, let's do it."

She squealed, clasping her hands and pressing her knuckles under her chin. "I get to be there at you first time, HellCat. I feel so honored."

I gave her a playful shove, trying to fein a confidence I didn't feel. "Shut up. And let's go."

"I asked Javier to drive us with the carriage. He's already up front."

I looked at her questioningly. "Aren't single horses much faster?"

"Sure, but we won't be able to carry a lot back with us. 'Sides, this will be a total non-violence situation."

I highly doubted that. But I could hardly claim to be an expert in something I'd never done before. So I would just have to trust Karen to know what he was doing.

I have very little memory of the ride to town. I remember walking to the ramshackle wooden cart while dragging my feet. Distantly noting that I had never seen the cart nor horses before. When the jostling ride began I sat in the back, just staring out over the arid plains.

When I saw houses scattered across the landscape I realised we were almost at Blackwater. I looked up at Karen who was sitting next to Javier, chatting. "So, Karen. What is the plan exactly?"

"Haven't you been listening at all?" She said scornfully. "I've been explaining it for ten minutes now."

"Sorry, I was a little distracted."

"Miss Cat, you need to keep your wits about you for this." Javier called over his shoulder and I heard him mumble something that sounded like: "Arthur would kill me if something happened to you."

It would be petty, wouldn't it, to respond that if something happened to me, it would be because Arthur wouldn't teach me how to shoot? Yeah, I thought so to.

"Ok, so one more time. Cat, you go in and distract the clerk. Get him to pull all the dresses out of the racks because you want to try them on. If you manage, also get him to get the dresses he's still got packed up in the back. We will give you about twenty minutes. Then Javier and I will come in when there aren't any other customers in. You will act all surprised and scared, thinkin' you're being robbed and everthin'." She daintily draped the back of her hand over het forehead. "Like really, a right scaredyCat!" She laughed at her own pun.

Javier took over: "We will come in through the back, so no one sees the cart upfront. And start loading it up. We will also point a gun at you, to sell that you have no part of this. Then Karen and I will leave. The sheriff will probably be called and you have to stay as a witness. Just act all lady like and say you ain't seen nothin' 'cause you was too scared. When you are ready to go, Bill and Uncle are at the bar next to the barber. They will take you home."

Sounded easy enough.

I was let out of the cart on the street corner near the dressmaker and started my way towards it. I stopped for a second next to the shop window. Shook out my arms, took a deep breath, and slapped myself on my leg. _Come on, you can do this. You got this!_

I plastered a cheery smile on my face and stepped inside. I was immediately greeted by a kind looking middle-aged man. With neatly slicked back, black hair, greying at the temples. He wasn't very tall, only slightly taller than me. I felt a pang of unease, knowing that I would be complicit of robbing this man.

"Goodmorning, ma'am. What fine weather you brought with you today. How can I be off service?" He cocked his head forward in a small bow.

"I.. I am looking for a dress to wear to my cousins wedding. She is marrying wealthy, so I need something special."

I saw the eyes of the man light up. I could almost hear him thinking that today would be a payday. _I am really sorry, my friend. _

"Of course, ma'am, of course. I have just the piece! Wait here a second." He walked through the door behind his counter, and I started to peruse the store aimlessly. My finger gliding over the rough and smooth fabrics of the dresses. When a door slammed open, I jumped slightly, afraid Karen and Javier would be here too early. But it was just the store clerk that had come back in.

"It is not cheap, but I guarantee you, you'll be the belle of the ball. And it will suit your skin and hair beautifully!" He held out the most gorgeous gown I'd ever seen. The color was a vibrant red, with black and cream lace trim. The corseted bodice was embroidered with beads in black vine patterns. It's long sleeves puffed up at the shoulders, with a low square neckline. He swung the dress around, and I saw that a silken bow had been placed on the backside, scrunching up the fabric, making the skirt even more voluminous.

The man must have noted the transfixed look in my gaze, because with a slight self satisfied smirk he said: "Would you like to try it on?"

"I would love to!" I didn't have to act.

He lead me to the dressing room, swung open the curtain with flair, and hung the dress inside.

"Now, normally the lady brings some friends to help her into the gown." he hesitated before pointing his thumb over his shoulder. "Shall I call my daughter, ma'am?"

"No!" I said a little too loud. I didn't want anyone else involved. "I mean, er.. No, thank you sir. I am used to getting into these dresses alone."

He gave me a dubious look, but bowed his head again and left me to it. So, Dear Reader, have you ever tried to put on a dress alone with a high zipper on the back? The gymnastics you push your body through in an effort to reach that flimsy piece of metal? Imagine that, times a thousand for this dress.

It already started off problematic. The dress was clearly designed with the idea of a corset being worn underneath it. This dress was also laced up, but the fabric was so delicate it would never be able to carry the strain caused by a body that has been shaped into an unnaturally tight hourglass. It needed a corset to do most of the work.

I decided that I would just lace it loosely, so not to rip the dress. The issue here, however, was that the lacing was on the back. So I turned the dress around, and laced it up front and tried to turn it around, but even with the extra room I'd created by not tying it up to tight, it was a struggle. Especially to get it over my boobs and onto my arms.

I started to sweat with the effort and I could feel my face turning red. My side braid had come loose, and got stuck in some of the beading on the dress. I can only imagine the sounds that must have come out of my tiny dressing room. Grunting, sighing, ripping, stumbling and some light cursing.

When I had one arm into a sleeve and noticed the dress didn't have enough stretch to get the other one in, I called it quits. This was hopeless.

I took the dress off, and straightened it as much as possible. With as much dignity as I could muster I stuck my head out off the curtain and said: "Yes, this is perfect. I want more like these."

The Clerk muttered with a slight panic in his eyes: "But you haven't even seen yourself in the mirror!" He pointed to a full body mirror in middle of the shop.

"No.. No.. This is great. Bring me more." I'd never sounded so prim in my life.

I waited patiently until I heard the sound of small, croaking wheels being dragged over the uneven hardwood floor. I stuck my head out again and saw that the man had brought a rack of dresses. _Perfect._ Or the opposite, depending on who's perspective you took on the situation.

With my body still behind the curtain, I reached over to the rack and pulled out something that looked easier to get on by myself. It was a deep purple skirt made of supple satin, with a highnecked, white, lace blouse. With it came a leather belt, that buckled an intricate stag head made of ivory and gemstones on the front, and matching leather gloves, with an ivory button at the wrist. When I was dressed and considered the time, I figured Karen and Javier would almost be there.

I took a deep breath. _Showtime. _

Admiring myself in the mirror, I touted how exquisit the tailors pieces were and asked how much. He said: "The new dresses, the ones I hung on the rack for you, are 400 each. The ones in the store range from 20 to 150, ma'am."

When I didn't blanche at the given price and instead walked back to the new dresses, examining them, I could feel the energy in the man changing. It was the energy of a salesperson who had baited their prey and now waited for the right moment to strike.

Suddenly, a loud bang went through the store. Followed by the sound of shattered glass. The clerk and I looked up in unison and my yelp wasn't acted.

Karen and Javier came barging in, the broken glass that came from the little window in the back door, crunching underneath their feet.

Both were wearing bandanas on the lower half of their face and both carried a shotgun, pointed at the air above them.

"Oh dear god!" I heard the man cry. "No dear god, no, please!"

Karen turned her gun on me: "Gimme your stuff!" Her normally cheery and kind voice, rough and hostile. It took very little imagination to act scared.

"Yes.. yes of course." I released the belt from my waist and handed her the buckle. Then I started on my gloves.

Karen pushed the gun against my chest: "Hurry up, would ya. And don't forget those earrings."

The shock on my face was completely real when she mentioned the tiny golden ringlets in my ears. They had been a gift from my mother for my eighteenth birthday, and it was a very rare moment that I took them off.

Karen was relentless: "Do it. NOW!" Her voice loud and vicious.

I had to play along, so I handed the only real possession I had left over to her. As soon as my fingers left the precious metal, I felt hollow.

With my eyes I tried to convey: _you will give those back to me, or else._

Whether or not she'd understood my unspoken message wasn't clear. She turned me around and forced me on my knees. "Keep your hands on your head, where I can see them." She then proceeded to grab the new dresses and carry them out to load them on the cart.

In the meantime Javier had dragged the clerk to the register. With a gun pushed to the trembling man's head, Javier yelled: "Open it! Now!

The clerk's fingers were shaking so hard, he had trouble pressing the right button that would open the drawer were he'd kept his cash.

"I am an impatient man, mister! Faster!" He slammed the but of the gun down on the man's shoulder, who cried out in agony.

Finally, the poor man had managed to open the drawer. Javier grabbed handsfull of stacked notes and shoved them in his pocket. Then he grabbed the man and dragged him towards me. He set him by my side in the same position. On his knees, hands behind his head. He stood in front of us now and pointed his gun from the clerk to me. "No fucking hero's today, ok?"

Javier started helping Karen with loading the bounty.

While we sat silent for a moment, I listened to the quick breaths of the man next to me. After a moment I felt him shift a little. The clerk carefully tapped me with the point of his elbow and when I looked at him, he pointedly looked down at his hip. I followed his gaze and saw the back of a revolver hanging over the edge of his trouser. It had been hidden by his tidy vest. "Take it and shoot." He whispered.

_Shit.. No.. Shit.. _Javier and Karen were both outside, so I couldn't warn them. I needed to find a way to get the pistol away from the man, without blowing my cover.

"They won't expect a woman to do it, you have the best shot!"

He misinterpreted the panic in my eyes, and while looking over his shoulder carefully, keeping an eye on the backdoor, he slowly started moving his hand down towards the gun.

"No!" I hissed. "You'll get us both killed!"

"That's my boy's entire college education, bein' loaded on that cart, right now."

My heart broke into pieces. "I.. Please." I begged. "Please, don't leave your son without a father."

I saw the man clench his jaw in determination. _Shitshitshit. I had to think of something._

But I was too late.

The moment Javier came back through the door, I saw the man's hand dropping fast. He already had his pistol out and cocked when I pushed him over. The gun shot a bullet through the glass counter, nowhere near Javier. The clerk was still clutching his revolver, knuckles white.

I looked down at the man, he stared up at me perplexed. Then realisation dawned. "You… You too?" Betrayal was etched in his face.

"I.. I'm sorry." I stammered lamely.

He looked from me to Javier, and seemed to decide in a split second. He jumped to his feet, pulling my back against him, a tight arm around my neck and the barrel at my temple. He turned us towards Javier, and now Karen who'd come back running it at the sound of a shot being fired. Javier had his shotgun aimed at the man's head.

"Give it back!" The man cried. I could feel warm liquid dripping down the side of my face. But they weren't my tears. He pointed the gun at Javier: "Give it back or I'll shot!"

"Easy now, old man. Let her go, and nobody needs to get hurt." Javier's voice was smooth and steady. It would almost be reassuring if he wasn't pointing a shotgun at the man's face.

The man kept backing us up, leading us to the front of the store. I could feel his head turn a little above me, as if he was looking behind him for a second.

Before I heard the shot, I could already feel warm sticky liquid splatter over my face. The clerks hold on me went slack. I didn't move, still too stunned.

His body slid the length of mine and finally fell sideways, falling to the floor with a thud.

I looked down at myself. Around my neck and shoulder, the white blouse had colored a vibrant red. Pieces of skin and bone sticking on it. I could feel it on the side of my face too. I looked down to the floor. My skirt's edges were drenched in the puddle of the man's blood.

I didn't know whether to scream, puke, or faint first.

"Cat! Cat! Are you alright" Karen came towards me, and shook my shoulders.

Outside there started loud yells and screaming.

"Shit!" said Javier. "We have to go! Now!"

Numbly I started forwards. "No, not you! You all bloody, we can't lose the trail if you are with us. Stick to the plan!" Javier pulled Karen away from me, out of the back door.

Karen had the decency of looking apologetic.

They hadn't yet rounded the corner out the door, or the front door behind me slammed open.

"Hands up!" I heard a gun being cocked.

Shivering I held up my hands, the gun still aimed at my back.

I heard footsteps, they went from taps on wood, to sloshing through blood. I was yanked by my shoulder and turned around.

I stared into the face of a young man. Maybe a little older than Lenny. He had a large bushy moustache, connecting to his sideburns, making him look older. But his bright, blue eyes betrayed him.

I saw him staring at me, stricken. And tried to imagine what he would see. I was probably pale as a ghost, with blood, skin and bone all over one side of my face.

"Jesus, ma'am. Are you alright?"

I started crying. No, I wasn't alright. I was really, very much, not alright. Those assholes left me in this mess.

More men came running in from behind the man. "Ma'am, my name is Martin O'connell. I am the sheriff here in Blackwater." He pointed at the metal star pinned on his chest. "Can you tell me your name?"

I couldn't tell this man, _the sheriff, _my actual name, could I? I had to think of something fast.

"M-my name is.. Is.. Audrey, Audrey Hepburn." Hey, at least she wasn't know in this time yet.

"Ok-" he glanced down at my left hand quickly "-Miss Hepburn. Can you tell me what happened?"

_Just stick to the plan_

"No.. I had my eyes closed the entire time!" I let my real sobs come out, making my statement more believable.

"Did you see what they looked like?!"

"N-No! I was just shopping. F-For my cousins wedding! And suddenly I was grabbed and he-" I pointed down to the corps at my feet without looking "-pulled a gun on me!"

The sheriff frowned. "He? Pulled a gun? On.. You?"

"Yes!" I wailed. I might have been overdoing it a bit now.

"But.. Why? And why were you saved?"

_Shit.. Talked myself right of the deep end there._

"I don't know sir. I really don't." Tears had gathered on my face and now started sliding on the tip of my nose and chin.

The sheriff looked at me intently. He couldn't deny the real shock and horror on my face.

"You don't sound like you're from around here. Do you have any relatives you're staying with?"

"I have an Uncle, sir. He lives just out of town." Close enough.

"Good. Do you need one of my men to escort you there?"

"No sir, thank you. I will manage by myself."

"Ok then, take care of yourself, Miss Hepburn." And just when I was about to leave the store and drag my bloody self to the bar, the sheriff called over his shoulder: "Oh, and ma'am. Don't leave town yet. In case we have questions."

I gave him a faint smile and with a quick nod of my chin I was out.

Walking around town with the half side of your face and neck completely soaked in blood was quite the spectacle, as you can imagine. People stopped and stared. A few well meaning gentlemen asked if they could be of any assistance. I ignored them all. Didn't hear, think, or feel.

I stepped into the bar where I was supposed to meet with Bill and Uncle. When the door fell shut behind me, everybody inside quieted and stared at me with gaping mouth.

It took Bill a second before he jumped from his barstool and rushed to my side. "Jesus, Miss Davis. Are you alright?"

I waved a hand at him: "I am fine. I just want to go home." Home, the word had been uttered so naturally. Was the camp my home? Even after this?

"I think we should first get you into a bath, Miss Davis. Because you're gonna scare people at camp half to death, bargin' in there like this." Uncle stood on my other side now. "Come, I'll pay for it and Bill will take you upstairs." He walked towards the barkeep and yelled: "A deluxe bath for the lady!" flipping a coin at him.

I was brought to a little room with a steaming hot tub already fixed. Bill nodded and said: "If you need anything, Miss Davis. Just call. We'll be downstairs."

I took off my bloody clothes and lowered myself into the hot water. Foam so thick it reached up to my chin.

There was a rapt knock on the door, and without waiting for an answer a young woman walked in. She was wearing a thin blouse, buttoned open low. Her tight corset pushed her breasts up high. "Hi sweetheart, I heard you wanted a-" She looked at me "-Oh.. I am sorry. I was expecting a.. Well usually the deluxe bath is only ordered by.. Well, no matter. Who am I to judge. To each their own. Right, sweetheart?"

She sat next to the bathtub and without further explanation dropped her hand into the water, grabbing my upper thigh.

"What the fuck!" I yelled and jerked back as far as the tub would allow.

"Oh!" the girl lifted her foamy hand to her mouth, looking alarmed. "I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?"

"What are you doing?" My voice harsh with shocked anger.

The young woman's eyes glistened with held back tears. "I just thought.. You did order the deluxe bath, right?"

_Uncle._

I took a deep breath, steadying myself.

"I am sorry. There was a bit of a miscommunication. I don't need this.-" I gestured from her to myself. "-But now you're here. Could you maybe see if there are any clean clothes for me here? The old man at the bar downstairs will pay." I gave her a reassuring smile, but the damage was done.

Pale faced she nodded and scurried out of the room.

I would be angry at the old man if I hadn't genuinely believed that Uncle had tried to be nice. I later learned that he only splurged on a deluxe bath for himself on very rare occasions.

I scrubbed myself clean and washed my hair. I could feel the warm water rinsing away the shock. I realised that it's not a good thing that not even twenty minutes after you've had someone's brains shot all over you, you started to feel better. No, it wasn't good at all. It wasn't something I wanted to become desensitized to, but I could feel it starting to happen.

When I stepped out of the tub, had wrapped myself in a towel, and started braiding my hair, there was another knock on my door. The young woman stepped in again with a neatly folded stack of clothes. "I'm sorry ma'am. This was all I could find."

"I'm sure they're alright." I wish I could give the girl a tip or something. But I still didn't have any money. "Thank you. Go get yourself a drink at the bar. Again, the old man will pay."

She kept her gaze down when she left the room, and I felt a bit bad.

Walking over to the clothes, I saw to my surprise that she hadn't gotten me a dress or a skirt. She'd found pants made from dark brown suede. They fit a little bit snug around my bottom, but the rest of it was perfect. It came with suspenders, a cream colored shirt and a cowboy hat. Similar to those I'd seen the others wear, similar to the one Arthur wore.

I walked over to the mirror, holding the hat between two hands and spun it around. I looked at myself. From the dusty points of my sturdy boots, up the straight legs of the pants to where they hugged my hips, past the cream colored shirt with rolled up sleeves, to my face. Finally I placed the hat on my head.

And for some reason, the person staring back at me was me, but also not me. It was somewhat of a bewildering experience, to not fully recognize the person in the mirror. This woman staring back at me, was no longer Caterina Davis, the HR manager. It was Caterina -HellCat- Davis, the outlaw.

I had gone and survived the initiation. It was a botched job, but we did manage to grab the bounty anyway. How did I feel about the man that was killed? I must say I wasn't surprised it had happened, deep down I had known this was a possibility. It was easy slipping in my 'me or you' armor, making it all ok, because it was necessary for survival. But was it really? And if it was, did that make it ok?

Back then, I hadn't dared to answer that question. Because I knew the answer would be: 'No, it wasn't ok.' At that moment, I tucked the question away, accepted another chip had been taken out of my soul, and straightened my shoulders. For now, this would be my life. For now, I was an outlaw.


	9. Chapter 9

Going back downstairs, in the busy drinking area of the bar, I found Uncle and Bill eating a large plate of steak and mashed potatoes.

"What does a girl have to do to get a good plate of food around here?" I asked loud enough for the barkeeper to hand me a menu. I ordered the same as my companions.

"What the hell happened?" asked Bill.

"Not so loud you idiot!" I snapped. "I am stuck in a big pile of shit." I hissed the words. "They killed him. And _left me_ to talk to the sheriff. And now the sheriff wants me around town for questioning."

"What?! Why did they have to kill the poor son of a bitch?!" Uncle exclaimed. "I really liked that guy. He custom made this vest for me." He pulled on the fabric of his blue cotton vest to show us.

"Keep. It. Down!" I whispered harshly. "He was going to shoot me. So Javier put a bullet in his head to save me. But now I am royally fucked, because the sheriff knows my story wasn't right."

"Ahh, don't worry about it." Bill said dismissively. "Dutch will fix this. He always fixes shit like this."

"Well, I goddamn hope he does. Because if they catch me.. I swear to god."

"Relax, it will all be alright. It's just your first job, 's all. You don't know how these things work yet." Bill shook my shoulder. "Now, eat your food before it gets cold."

When we finished our meal, we walked outside back into the rising heat off the day.

"You know what would make you feel better?" Uncle began.

"What?" I gave him a suspicious look.

"We should get you a horse!"

"If you think I am going to steal a horse now, you are out of your damn mind. I'm in enough trouble as it is."

"Oh, ye of little faith. I meant just buyin' one. Come on! I will lend you the money and you can pay me back!" The old man said with a wide grin.

Buying a horse had always been a dream of mine when I was a young girl. But my mom didn't have the money to pay for it, so it had always remained something I'd hoped to be doing in the future _when I was grown and rich. _I even had the name picked out; Maximus, but I would always call him Max. It was strange that this dream now seemed to become a reality. In this place where luxury and money were scarce. But Uncle was right. The idea alone made me feel better.

"Alright. Let's do it!"

We entered the stable, and the smell of horse mixed with leather and hay brought back memories of when I was a child. I was a bit nervous about getting on a horse after not so much as touchin one for almost fifteen years. Sitting on a horse while somebody else sits behind you and does all the work, isn't the same as doing it yourself. But people always said that riding a horse is close to riding a bike. You can't unlearn it.

Immediately my eyes fell on a dark chocolate colored horse. By the thick neck and slender head I recognised it as an Andalusian, a Spanish war breed. They were known for their sensitivity and courage. I walked up to the horse, who snorted softly. I held out the back off my hand for it to smell me, and waited until he touched it with his nose.

I let my hand glide over his strong neck and felt a slight indentation. It looked like you pressed a thumb into clay, and I recognised it as something people call: Mohammed's Thumb Mark. It was superstition that horses who had these were fiercely loyal to their owner. And I knew, without even having to look at the other horses, that this one would be mine.

"Hi Max, how would you like to come home with me?" I said while scratching a place just behind the withers, making the horse bend its neck and scratch my back.

"You like her, ma'am?" The stable boy came up to me.

"Her? Huh.." I turned towards the horse's face again. "Well, girly, I hope you don't mind being called Max." I pressed a kiss on her soft nose. Being around horses was like slipping on a well worn in leather glove. It fit perfectly, even after all these years.

"Yeah, she's a mare. So if you get sick of ridin' her, you can always use her for foaling."

"I won't get sick of riding her." I knew that already. "How much?"

I let Uncle handle the transaction, and heard him mutter something that he had been talking about buying a horse, not something that costs more than a luxury carriage. But I ignored him. I would find a way to pay him back.

Max came with a saddle, bridle, and apparently a backstory. When the stable hand had tacked her up and handed me the reins he said: "I feel I must tell you ma'am, that this horse is bitsour."

"And you couldn't have told us that before we took that animal off your hands!" Bill started cussing.

The stable boy just shrugged.

I looked at the large, metal shanks that dangled out of Max's mouth. The corners of her lips were still raw. I had seen it before, in the dressage arena. Horses with bloody mouths and blue tongues. And I knew that could only have been caused by violent pulling and yanking on the reins. Of course she would react badly to a bit.

"Do you have a bridle without a bit?" I asked.

"Excuse me?" Said the boy and Uncle in unison.

"Something without a bit?" I repeated, arching my brow.

"Are you crazy? Do you even know what kind of horse you've bought? This isn't some good natured Morgan pony." Bill looked at me like I'd completely lost it.

"I know what kind of horse this is, but if she's bitsour, I might be safer riding without a bit."

"Pardon me, ma'am. But what you need is these." The boy held up a pair of pointy spurs.

"_What I need, _is something without a bit."

The boy shrugged again. Clearly feeling that he'd done enough to clear his conscience. "The best I can do for you is a rope halter, I think. You can attach the reins to the sides yourself."

"Thank you, that will do for now."

Walking out of the stable with Max on the other end of the reins felt great. My own horse. if my fifteen year old self could see me now, she would go crazy.

I stood beside her, and tightened the reins in one hand, lifting my foot towards the stirrup. Max darted sideways nervously. "Easy, girl. You're alright. I am not going to hurt you." I soothed, but by the wide eye she gave me I could see she wasn't convinced at all. "Easy there, relax sweety." I stroked her neck and scratched her mane. She snorted and lowered her head. "Good girl.."

When I tightened the reins again, her head followed upwards immediately. Wide, white eyes staring down at me. Pawing one hoof in the sand.

Bill snorted. "Yeah, I can well and fully see you knew what kind of horse you bought."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "She just has to get used to me a little."

"Well, I hope she gets used to you fast. 'Cause I don't feel like waitin' here all day."

"Oh, because your busy fucking schedule won't allow waiting for a few minutes." I threw back at him, fiercely.

"Jeez, relax." He threw his hands up defensively. Softly I heard him say: "HellCat."

I closed my eyes for a moment, and breathed in deeply. I really needed to work on this. Especially with _little miss sensitive_ here, who picked up on my mood straight away. I made an effort to relax my shoulders, and counted to ten.

"I'm sorry Bill. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just…" I stopped, looking for the right words but couldn't find them. I settled. "It has been a long day."

His eyebrows shot up so high they disappeared underneath the rim of his hat. These people were used to teasing, insulting and yelling at each other. They weren't used to people apologizing for that.

But for me it was the first step into getting my temper under control.

I picked up the reins one last time, and even though she started moving I still put my foot in the stirrup and pulled myself up. Not the best training method, but it would have to do for now. I really wanted to get back to camp.

I noticed something about taking a break from riding, pretty quickly. Although you might still remember how your body should move in certain situations, that didn't necessarily meant you had the core strength, stamina, or balance to pull it off.

Max had bolted as soon as my butt hit the saddle. Bolted like a cartoon horse. She'd moved all her weight onto her back legs, and sprung herself forward. I could feel the canter moving towards a gallop, and I knew -oh god I knew- that all I had to do was to keep my back straight and push my body deep into the saddle, don't pull on the reins, keep your legs long and relaxed and calm the horse down. But I just couldn't, I was immediately thrown off balance, losing my stirrups. Making me bunch up like a ball on her back, my thighs crushing her sides in order to keep myself on, but only serving to spurr her on even more.

She ran and ran. Darting through the streets of Blackwater, towards the open plains. All I could do was try and hold on for dear life and hope that I wasn't going to fall off. After a while her angry snorts became more breathless, and foamy sweat began to form on her neck.

I could feel her strides shortening, no longer the explosive gait. She moved back to canter, and finally drew to a halt.

_Jesus Christ_. Reacting bad to the bit wasn't all the problems this horse had.

"Easy babe.. Just relax." I patted Max' soaking wet neck, the horse was heaving for breath.

"What was that, huh?" I said while painfully dislodging my legs out of their cramped up position and relaxed my shoulders. Oh, I would feel this tomorrow.

It wasn't long before I heard the rapid clomping of hoofs and when I looked over my shoulder I saw Bill and Uncle catching up with me.

"Jesus lord almighty, you've got a right spitfire there. I'd never seen a horse takin' off that fast." Uncle said astonished. "You alright there, Miss Cat?"

"Yeah, I'll be sore for a few days. But I think she's gotten the worst out of her system now."

I heard Bill take in a loud gasp of breath and looked over to him. He was shaking, his face contorted in silent laughter. He had clasped his arms around his midriff and almost fell from his horse.

I narrowed my eyes. "What's so funny, huh?"

It took awhile before he had enough air to react. "_Oh, I don't need a bit. I know exactly what kind of horse I've bought." _His voice was an octave higher than usual, trying to imitate a female, presumably my, voice. He doubled forward in a new fit of laughter.

"I am glad you find it so amusing." I said without humor in my voice.

Uncle let out a snort. Then another. Then joined Bill.

I said nothing, just looked at them to see if they would be done soon. When it became apparent it would take a while, I carefully picked up Max' reins again and started her towards where we'd come from. She was tired, and had run out any resistance she had. Really, not my preferred training method, but for now effective enough. I would take the time to do it properly.

I rode passed them with my chin high, but I couldn't fully keep the blush of my cheeks. "If you assholes are done, I am going home."

The road back to camp was long and painstakingly slow, with long pauses to wait on either Bill or Uncle to have enough breath again to continue.


	10. Chapter 10

I had made a small round pen just outside of camp. Earlier that day when I found some thick branches I had asked Davey and Mac to help me bang them into the ground in an octagonal shape and wound rope around the poles to close it. This would be perfect to work with Max.

I started off with the basics. Was I able to touch her everywhere? I started petting her neck, withers and back. All was fine. Then when going down her legs she started to get restless. Now, with the time to do it properly, I took it easy. Forcing nothing.

I started on her front leg, to see how low I could reach before she became nervous. Right at that point I waited, with my hand still calmly touching her, until she relaxed. Immediately I pulled my hand away and rewarded her with a piece of carrot I had in my back pocket.

"You're good with horses."

I was so focused on Max, I hadn't heard him coming. The hairs on my neck rose instinctively. But not in the way it did when you sense danger. No, now it was accompanied by a flutter in my stomach.

I looked over my shoulder and said: "Long time no see, stranger."

He tipped the rim off his hat. "Uncle told me you bought the meanest horse you could find and I thought you might finally have met your match. So I came to see who was winnin'."

I couldn't help but smile at him. "Well, she almost had me on my back yesterday."

There was a glint in his eyes that made my inside twist a little. We locked gazes and he smirked. I had to figure out how to breathe again, before I could ask: "You've been gone long?"

His face turned serious, and he rubbed his hand behind his neck. "Yeah, just some job for Strauss."

"Two weeks feels like a very long time for a simple job."

"I'm glad you've been counting." The smile he gave me didn't fully reach his eyes. "Naw, the feller just didn't wanted to get caught, is all."

I frowned. "He was good at hiding, then."

"Yeah, well luckily I'm good at findin'." The crease between his eyebrows deepened for a moment, as if he had to fight off an unpleasant thought.

"Arthur? Do you want to talk about it?"

He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offered me one, but I declined. He lit his own and after a long draw answered: "That won't be necessary. I'll be alright." He crossed his arms and looked at Max. "That's a good lookin' horse you got there."

"Isn't she? I knew I wanted her the moment I saw her." I walked towards the horse and softly stroked her nose.

Arthur let out a small cough and said: "What's her name?"

"Maximus, but I call her Max."

He laughed at that. "Wantin' to shoot like a man, calling your girl by a man's name-" He gestured at my outfit "-be dressed up like a man. What's next? You want to take a piss like a man?"

I felt a flare of anger: "Well, I am sorry if your fragile masculinity can't handle that."

"My fragile what now?"

"Your fragile masculinity!" I repeated, but before waiting for an answer I said: "It's not my problem that you think women are too weak to fire a gun. Or that it's inappropriate for a _horse_ to be called Max or a woman walking around in pants. That's your problem."

He flicked away his cigarette and put a fist around one of the branches that stuck out of the ground. He squeezed so hard his knuckles had turned white: "Do you think this is about me thinkin' you's weak?! Do you think I give a damn about this-" he send an angry gesture my way. "Bein' inappropriate?! You're a goddamn fool if you believe that!"

"Then what? Huh? Why is this so hard for you, then?" In my anger I had walked up to the rope, leaving almost no room between us.

"I am tryin' to protect you!"

My eyes almost rolled out of my skull. "Oh, aren't you the nicest man ever to walk the earth!"

He grabbed my shoulders: "Listen to me-" His voice became low, intent. "Bein' a man.." He stopped, looking for the words. "Bein' a man and an outlaw is dangerous. And I ain't talkin' about bein' shot or even killed. No, the real risk is you stay alive and have to live with what you've done. I-" He dropped his hands and stepped back. "I can't think of anythin' worse."

I looked at him, stunned. Staring into his eyes, looking for the right words. I saw a blush creep over his cheeks and nose, and he looked away from me adjusting his hat so the shadow obscured his eyes.

"Arthur, I'm.."

He dismissed my words with a vague gesture: "Ah, forget I said anything." He turned around and started walking away.

Quickly I ducked underneath the rope and without thinking I grabbed his hands: "Please, don't walk away."

He stood completely still his back still towards me. Then he turned his head, looking down at my hand clasping his. I thought he might pull away, but he surprised me by threading his fingers through mine. The feel of his calloused hand, the strength of it, was simultaneously exciting and wholly natural. As if it was finally where it had supposed to be, all along.

I waited for him to speak, but he said nothing.

"You are not a bad man, Arthur Morgan."

A wry smile crossed his lips. "Respectfully, Miss Davis, but you have no idea what you are talking about."

This was somewhat true, of course. I had never seen him outside of camp, while working a job. But now that I've seen Karen and Javier in action, I could imagine.

"Will you tell me about this job?" I asked while I squeezed his hand softly.

He shook his head a little, as if to shake away a bad memory. "What's there to tell?" I knew he wanted to appear casual, but the slight crack in his voice betrayed him. He'd noticed it too. He looked up at me then, his face softening. He had such kind eyes when he wasn't frowning or sneering. I couldn't help but smile at him.

His thumb stroked my knuckles for a second, but then like he was only now realizing what he was doing he jerked his hand away. "There's nothin' to say about this job. I did what I had to do for my family to survive. They are all that matters."

My now empty hand felt cold. To avoid grabbing his again, I clasped my own in front of me. I realized I wasn't going to get more out of him. But I didn't want him to leave. Not yet. "I did my first job, yesterday."

A flash of worry crossed his face, his eyes scanning me from top to bottom. When he saw I was fine, he gave me a crooked grin. "What ya do, distract someone while the others robbed him blind?"

"Sort off.. I was with Karen and Javier. But the man tried to kill me, so Javier shot him. They left me to deal with the sheriff, and haven't returned yet."

"Jesus, that sounds like a right mess. What do you mean, he tried to kill you?!"

I told him the entire story. Not in the way someone might relay a fantastical tale, no. I was cold and factual. Trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. I wasn't angry anymore that Javier and Karen left me, I understood why they did it. Neither did I let the fact they killed an innocent man, truly sink in. No, selfishly, the emotion I had to mask was the worry I felt over the the sheriff who picked up on the inconsistency in my story. I was so scared I would be caught. Because in this time, being caught ment being hung.

When I finished my story I stared down at my shoes and started digging the points between the pebbled into the sand.

Arthur stayed quiet for a while, then let out a deep, capitulating sigh. "Ok… You win."

I looked up at him, arching my brow in question.

"I will teach you how to shoot. As soon as you get that horse of yours safe enough to ride, we'll go. No, don't look so happy. We ain't shooting no people. We will practice with huntin'."

I didn't care. I didn't want to shoot people, I wanted to be able to defend myself. To not be so dependent on others for my safety.

I let out an excited laugh and started forward to give him a hug, but just in time thought better of it. Trying to make my spread arms look like they hadn't been planning on going around his neck, I put them awkwardly behind my head and let out an embarrassed cough.

"You, ehm-" He scraped his throat. "- You should talk to Dutch. He'll know what to do with that sheriff."

"Yeah, thanks!" I said too brightly and stalked passed him, trying to escape the moment as quickly as I could.

"Miss Davis?"

I looked back over my shoulder.

"What shall we do with Max here?" He pointed at the horse with his thumb.

"Just, just leave her there. She'll be fine." Without waiting for an answer I walked back to camp and started looking for Dutch. This would be just as good a time as any.

While I walked away from Arthur I wondered if he would ever tell me what was going on inside his mind. He was such a closed off man. Not exactly hardened, not cold nor uncaring. Cautious was the better description. I realised that for him to open up to me, he would have to trust me. But how could he trust me, if at every turn we would butt heads and fight?

Besides, would I trust him with my story? Did I trust him not to laugh at me, mock me, call me crazy, or worse.. Kick me out? No, I didn't. Because he had been right, I didn't know what I was talking about when it came to who he was. I could not begin to predict how he would react. Maybe that was the same for him.

Dutch wasn't at camp. When I asked Molly where he'd gone, she just looked me up and down like I was an incessant bug pestering her before turning away.

"He's gone with Micah." Charles walked up to me.

I had to work to keep the sneer off my face at the mentioning of _that _name. "So he's back?" I couldn't keep the disdain out of my voice.

Charles gave me a knowing smile, and said: "Well, I wouldn't say back. He told Dutch he had something of a peace offering to show him."

"Hmm" I shrugged "Let's hope he gets eaten by a bear on their way there." Charles didn't have to ask who of the two I would be referring to. "Can you tell Dutch I am looking for him if you see him?"

"Sure." He shrugged. "I brought you some rabbit and rosemary, like you asked."

I smiled "Thank you."

I started dinner for that night. In the past few week I had lost all queasiness in skinning animals and cutting up their bodies for meat. I'd become quite proficient in keeping their pelts and skin in a good state when removing them. We used them to make leather drinking flasks or as water buckets. Jennie had made a really nice satchel for Lenny and had promised to teach me as soon as we had a new skin to work with.

That evening, after everyone was fed, I joined Jennie at the campfire holding a dried deerskin in my hands.

"Great! You found one!" She beamed at me. Jennie was the type of girl you couldn't help but like. Kind, genuine, and razor sharp. Not a bad bone in her body. This might make you wonder how she ended up with a bunch of outlaws. And to be honest, to this day the precise story remains a mystery to me. She didn't like to talk about it, always heding the subject when it was brought up. What her presence did tell me was that you didn't have to be evil to become an outlaw. Sometimes, it's just the best you can do with the cards you have been dealt.

She took the skin out of my hands and said: "Oh, it's in perfect condition. This will make a great satchel. You want me to show you how to make one?"

I smiled and nodded. And she started taking me through the process of measuring out three separate pieces in the skin, and how to stitch them together.

She was showing me how to decorate it nicely, when I looked up over the fire and saw Lenny staring at her longingly. It was the most well known secret in camp; Lenny had an eye on Jennie.

I lowered my voice, as to not be overheard and asked: "So, what's the deal between you and Loverboy over there?" I couldn't fully contain my smirk.

"I will tell you, only if you tell me what's going on between you and Arthur." She said too innocently.

I frowned. "Nothing is going on between me and Arthur."

"Uh-huh." She laughed. "Well, it's just the same between me and-" her voice became a whisper. "-Lenny."

"What is you two whisperin' about!" Mary-Beth said loudly when she and Tilly sat on either side of us on the large tree trunk.

"We were just discussin' how there is nothing going on between Arthur and Miss Cat, here." Jennie said in the same volume, and I had to suppress the urge to clasp my hands in front of her mouth.

Tilly grinned widely. "Oh sure there ain't. I've seen how you two look at each other."

I drew the line when Mary-Beth started making kissing noises. "Would you keep it down! some things are private."

"Haven't you learned that yet? At camp, nothing is private." Jennie said in a mock severe tone. "Although you haven't been treated to the wonderful shadowplay given by Karen and Sean when they drank too much and forget to turn the lamp off in their tent. It's fully voiced and everythin'."

At that the three girls roared with laughter and were joined by the boy across from us. I eyed him suspiciously. "It isn't polite to eavesdrop on other people's conversations."

"It isn't eavesdropping when the other people are almost yelling, miss." His grin wide.

I squint my eyes even more and he threw up his hands defensively. "Alright, alright. I know when I'm not wanted." For a second his eyes slipped to Jennie, and his smile faltered a little.

I felt for him, I had seen him pining after her since the moment I was first introduced to her. I could see him time and time again working up the courage to say something, only to have it fail at the last moment. If only he could see what we all could see, the look of disappointment on Jennie's face every time he stopped his approach.

My mind drifted towards Arthur. Although I didn't want to proclaim it publicly, I wasn't a fool. I knew full well that my reaction was more than I had towards the other man in camp. And honestly, who could blame me. He was a strong, handsome man, willing to fight for those he loved. I refused to believe it would leave anyone unaffected. Especially because those feelings seemed to be returned by him. I didn't know how strong they were, but a blind man could see they were there.

The simple truth of the matter was, however, that it didn't matter. I wasn't going to stay with these people. As soon as I was capable of traveling alone, relatively safe, I would go back to the place they found me, and find my way home.


	11. Chapter 11

Almost two weeks passed with no word from either Dutch, nor Karen and Javier. I would've been worried if it weren't for the others who kept telling me this wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

Still, I was restless. I wanted Dutch to help me with the sheriff, to get it over and done with. I feared I'd been away from town too long already, arousing even more suspicion.

To take my mind off things I kept working with Max. She was making real progress, already able to take me on a quiet tackless ride along the river's edge. Soon I would start with reintroducing the saddle again, and then take her out on a real ride away from camp.

Today, I was working on making Max a little braver. I had tied a piece of cloth on the end of a large stick and was testing what I could do with it before she started to get nervous. I noticed she had started trusting me more and more. Knowing I wasn't going to do anything to hurt her, she let me rub it over her back.

Stepping back from her, and fishing a piece of carrot out of my newly made satchel, I heard excited voices coming from camp. I looked back and caught a glimpse of Karen, and I immediately started towards them.

"Cat! Oh my god, Cat!" Karen's face was immediately sorrowful, with a tinge of regret. "I am so glad you are alright, I felt terrible!"

I waved her worry away. "I knew why you did it, don't worry."

"You did alright then? With the sheriff?" Javier came to stand next to Karen.

"Well, I don't know. He knew my story was off. But I am still here, aren't I?" I said with more bravado then I felt.

"I am so sorry!" Karen said again. "Didn't Dutch know what to do?" She looked around, trying to find him within the crowd that had gathered.

"Dutch isn't here, he's gone with Micah. And what were you guys thinkin' leavin her all alone on her first job! You know that's not the way we do things?" Mrs. Grimshaw scolded. "It's a good thing this girl can think on her feet. Can you imagine what could have happened?" Her voice was shrill and high. Both Karen and Javier seemed to shrink into themselves.

"Susan, it's alright-" I interjected.

"That's mrs. Grimshaw for you. And no, it isn't alright. These fools should have known better! They made a right mess of things." The woman crossed her arms and stared the duo down, like they were little children caught drawing on a freshly painted wall.

"We are really sorry, Miss Cat. Mrs. Grimshaw." Javier said contritely. "But I think we have something to make it up to you. It took awhile, but we sold all the dresses." He tried to give Susan a smile, but she just gave him a stern look before walking away and throwing over her shoulder: "If anything happens to that girl because of this, we all know who to blame!"

"Yikes.." I said softly to Karen, who gave a careful laugh. "Remind me not to get on her bad side."

"Yeah, I'll be on pot scraping duty for at least a month." She said, with a small smile. "But seriously, Cat. We are really sorry. It's just-"

I cut her off, having enough of the apologies. "I know why you did it. If you hadn't, chances are we would all be dead by now."

"See, I told you she would think rationally!" Javier bumped his shoulder against Karen's. He walked back to his horse and started rustling through his saddlebag. He pulled out a wad of banknotes and threw them at me. "The bastard severely overpriced those dresses, but I guess five hundred each ain't too bad."

Karen pulled something out of her dress pocket and handed it to me. To my eternal relief it were the golden ringlets my mother gave me. I immediately put them back in, a tension I didn't realise I held relaxed from my shoulder. She put her hand in her other pocket and said: "And I wanted you to have this too. So you'll remember how sorry I am."

She pulled out the ivory stag head buckle. I reached for it, letting my fingers run over the smooth material. It was beautiful. It looked fragile and strong at the same time. The intricately cut out antlers held up a light blue, sparkling stone, curving around it. Holding it in place solidly.

"Thanks Karen. But this is really not necessary."

"Nevertheless it's happenin'. Let me buy off my guilt, would ya?" She said with a wink, making me laugh.

"Alright then. I will keep it, and remember how you left me every time I look at it." I gave her a wicked smile and she shoved me playfully.

"Yeah, have it your way. Ruin a nice moment, HellCat."

"Babe!" Sean pushed himself through the few people still welcoming and lifted Karen up high against him. "I have missed you!"

She placed her hands around his face and planted a kiss on his lips. "You didn't think you'd be rid off me that easy, now?" He started carrying her towards his tent, while she giggled loudly.

Javier put his hand on my shoulder. "Thank you."

I gave him a face that said don't worry about it and he walked towards Bill and Davey, shaking their hands and slapping their backs.

"That was mighty kind of ya." Arthur said when he came to stand next to me. "I thought you was supposed to be mean."

"I am only mean to stubborn assholes who deserve it." I said teasingly.

He placed his hands on the belt of his holster and angled his smiling face towards the ground. "You always have something to say, don't ya?"

"Much to my mother's dismay" I agreed.

He looked at me then from underneath the brim of his hat with curious eyes. "She still alive? Your mother?"

The question was asked so casually. With no malice or ill intent. Just meant to get to know each other. He couldn't know the implications of that question. Which strings it would pull. Yet, the question was a painful one. My mom hadn't died, she just wasn't born yet. Which made the end result the same, though. I lived in a world without her. I didn't speak to her often, back in my time, but I always had this deep sense of knowing that she was there. That if I needed her, all I had to do was call. The impossibility of this opportunity, it left me with a big hole.

I must have had a look on my face, because he said: "Sorry, didn't mean to pry."

"No, it's fine. It's just that I miss her, so thinking about her is hard."

He gave a small nod, his boot scuffing the ground. "I know what it is like to lose someone you love."

"You do?"

"Yes ma'am." He rubbed his hand behind his neck. "But it's not important now, that's all in the past."

"Even so, it can still hurt."

"Yep, that it can."

After we were quiet for a moment I asked softly: "Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"I am scared about this whole business with the sheriff." I turned towards him and shoved my hands into my pockets, trying to remain calm. "Dutch isn't here, and I don't know when he's going to be back. I am afraid that I haven't been seen in town too long, already. Would you mind riding in there, with me? At least so the sheriff has seen my face again."

"Well, I ain't no smooth talker. So I don't think I'll be off much help."

"Just so he sees me and knows I haven't run off or anything."

Arthur looked at me for a long moment, and then gave me a nod. "Sure, if it'll help settle your nerves. Let's go."

I started towards Max, when Arthur called behind me: "No, she ain't ready yet. I saw her gettin' all skittish cause of a rabbit this mornin'. Ain't feelin' like havin' to take you to the doctor with a broken leg."

I pressed my lips into a thin line. Sure she still spooked easily, but she was already doing so much better. But maybe Arthur was right, maybe she wasn't yet ready for it. I didn't want her to have a bad experience now.

Arthur sensed a victory and pressed on: "Let's just take Beau, he's been standin' still too long and is ready for some exercise."

I sighed and shrugged.

I laid most of the money and the stag head underneath my bedroll and walked back to Arthur. When we stood next to his large horse, he gently turned my back towards him.

"I can get on a horse by myself you know."

"Settle your feathers and just let me be a gentleman for a change, would ya?" His voice softly drawling just behind my ear, sending a shiver all through my spine. He placed his hands on my hips, and lifted me up. With a blush on my face I lifted my leg over the saddle and waited for him to climb up behind me.

When he'd settled in I heard him huff a laugh.

"What?" I said while I angled my head to look at him.

"Ahh, it's nothin'." He said with laughter in his voice.

I frowned. "No, now you have to tell me."

"Just nevermind, it's not important."

"Arthur, just tell me."

He laughed, harder this time. "Okay, okay. Jeez. Calm down." He drew his arms around me and grabbed the reins, his body close to my back, making it impossible for me to see his face. "I was just thinkin' how much fun it is to make you blush."

Before I could respond he spurred Boudicea, who spun around quickly on his hind legs and started into a canter. I had to grab the horn to keep my balance, and for moment I felt Arthur's arms around me tighten, to balance me.

With him unable to see my face, I didn't try to hide my smile, enjoying the flutter in my stomach. I didn't say anything, just leaned back slightly, pressing my back closer to him.

When we arrived in town, Arthur jumped off and hitched Beau to a post. He helped me dismount and asked: "So, Miss Davis. You need to be seen, so just how are going to go about that?" He had a twinkle in his eyes, and it made him seem almost boyish.

"I thought that maybe we could go and get a bite to eat. If we go that way, we'll pass the sheriff's office." I pointed down the main street.

I couldn't help but feel a little bit tense. I knew the plan was to just show my face around town, but what if the sheriff would want to talk. What would I say? I still hadn't come up with a good explanation.

We passed the office, and I had to force my head to keep it from straining to look through the window.

"Don't break ya neck, would ya?" Arthur said in a rough whisper. "I thought the idea was to lower suspicion."

"Shut up." I said, raising my chin. Which earned me a smug grin from him.

"No, by all means.. Keep lookin' like that. How 'bout we just walk in, say hi. Bet them fellers will love that."

With no further comment I kept my head looking forward and stomped towards the bar. I wanted to open the door, but Arthur beat me to it. Still with the self satisfied grin on his face, he opened the door and with a dramatic sweeping of his arm he gestured me to enter.

_Asshole. _

I fought to keep the smile off my face, unwilling to give him anymore satisfaction. I rushed to a table to pull out a chair and sat down quickly, before he could get any ideas.

He joined me, and with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, he gave me a wink.

"So, can I get the lady anythin' to drink?"

"A brandy, thank you." I straightened my posture, sitting up as ladylike as I could. Two could play this game.

He actually bowed a little and started towards the bar. He brought back two glasses of brandy and sat down. He lit his cigarette before he said: "So, Miss Davis, how are you enjoying your stay with us so far?" He said it casually, but his eyes were sharp and intent.

I leaned over and plucked the cigarette from his mouth, took a long drag, and while struggling a little to keep down a cough said: "That's Miss Hepburn for you, Mister Morgan."

He caught on quickly. "Ofcourse, Miss Hepburn. My sincere apologies." He mockingly placed a hand over his heart. "My question still stands. How are you feelin' about your stay with the family?" His voice more serious.

I tried to keep up the silly tone of a few moments earlier. "It has certainly been interesting, Mister Morgan."

After staying quiet for a long moment, he said without humor in his voice: "I imagine it has. Can't be easy to adjust to bein' an outlaw."

"How do you know I wasn't one before we met?"

He raised his eyebrow sardonically. "Let's call it a hunch."

I had a wry smile when I said: "Damn, and I thought I was doing such a good job of hiding that."

"It would seem you ain't as slick as you thought, Miss Hepburn." He thoughtfully stared at me over the rim of his glass, then he leaned forward and took back the cigarette I stole from him and took a drag. "Can I tell you somethin' without you gettin' all fired up?"

I eyed him a little suspiciously. "If you have to ask, the answer is probably no."

He smiled at that, his face kind. "I guess I'm going to have to take my chances." In one big gulp he threw back the remainder of his drink, pushed out the cigarette in the ashtray, and said: "I don't know who you was before all this. And you seem very unwillin' to share that information."

I tried to interrupt, but he held up his hand.

"My gut is tellin' me you were from someplace real different. And I think, you is plannin' on leaving us as soon as you see a chance."

I was absolutely stunned. How had he picked up on that? What should I say to him? How would I even begin to explain it, especially since I didn't even understand myself. "It's not that easy." I said breathlessly.

He leaned over the table and grabbed my hand. "Cat, if you're in any trouble. Just tell me, and I'll see what I can do."

I shook my head slightly and repeated: "It's not that easy."

Before Arthur could answer we were interrupted by a young woman who came to take our order. She was summing up the days specials, but I didn't hear her.

I knew Arthur was sincere in his offer. But, would he still be if he heard the truth? Would he even believe me? I couldn't risk him thinking I was crazy and throwing me out. I knew there would never be a moment I would know for certain, not with such a wild notion as time travel. There was only one way to find out. But I wasn't ready yet. Not yet.

"Miss Hepburn?"

I looked up from the place I had been staring at on the table. "Hmm? What?"

"Have you decided what you'd like for dinner?" Arthur asked, with a slight note of worry in his voice.

"Oh, er.. I'll have the same as you."

He ordered and when the women walked away said quietly: "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put my nose were it doesn't belong. I just wanted you to know that if you ever need it, you have my help."

"Thank you, Arthur." My words were sincere. He didn't look at me when he nodded, as if awkward with the moment.

"So.." His voice was louder now, with a tone that suggested he was changing the subject. "Huntin'. I suppose you'll have Max ready in a week or so. Where would you want to go?"

Glad for the lighter subject, I said: "Somewhere more cold! I am so over this heat!"

The rest of our dinner was spend chatting about the upcoming hunting trip. Arthur promised to take me up north to the foothills near Big Valley. We discussed that I should buy warmer clothes and a varmint rifle, to be fully prepared.

It was nice, easy, comfortable. I noticed only how close we had started to lean towards each other, when the barmaid asked if we wanted anything else to drink. I had to suppress a feeling of resentment towards the young woman for interrupting the moment.

We paid for our meal and started walking down the main street towards Beau, our hands grazing when our bodies bumped into each other from walking too closely. My worries were all nearly forgotten. For a moment I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

"Miss Hepburn! Miss Hepburn?!"

A shock went through me when I heard the voice. Silly really, I should have expected this, shouldn't I? I plastered a smile on my face and said over my shoulder: "Sheriff O'connell, I was wondering if I would bump in to you today!"

I turned around to face the man and saw that he wasn't alone.

"Miss Hepburn.." The sheriff said as way of greeting, splaying his arms. "Fancy seein' you here. I was afraid you'd left!"

"I said I wouldn't, didn't I?" That came out more sharp then I'd intended, to make up for it I gave him an innocent smile. My eyes flitted to the stranger next to him. The man was small and stocky, no older than Arthur, with a large moustache and a bowl hat. He was sharply dressed, his suit meticulously clean and straight and although he returned my stare without any emotion, his strained posture emanated an underlying aggression.

Arthur must have sensed it too, because he came to stand even closer turning one shoulder towards the two man, as if to shield me. He rested his hands on the front of his gun belt. The stranger followed the movement acutely, and adjusted his stance ever so slightly, until his hands were just above his holstered revolvers.

"Er.. Yes.. So you did." The sheriff said nervously. "May I introduce you to detective Ross. He's from the Pinkerton office and has come to help us in the dressmaker case." He gave a tight smile.

Detective Ross' face remained flat and unreadable when he gave me a curt nod, not sparing Arthur a glance.

"This pretty lady is Miss Audrey Hepburn, the other victim in the case." The sheriff gave me a friendly nod.

The detective's eyes narrowed slightly. "Victim, huh?" He looked me up and down. "Some victim who is saved by robbers from a man trying to defend his business."

I felt a coil in my stomach tighten, but kept standing straight even under his intent scrutiny. "I don't know why it happened sir, I am just happy to be alive."

Ross gave a depthless smile: "I am sure you are, _Miss Hepburn._" The emphasis on the name, making it clear he didn't believe for a second that it was mine. His eyes now slid to Arthur, down from his scruffy boots, to his working man's hands and up to his tanned face. "Interesting company you keep. Or maybe I shouldn't expect anything else from a woman that dresses like a man."

I felt my upper lip pull back in a sneer, but Arthur turned towards the man, now standing fully in front of me. He extended his hand and said in a light tone: "Mister Callahan, nice to meet you."

The detective looked down at the hand. "Quite." Was all he said.

The sheriff looked from one man to the other before turning to me, having to slightly crane his neck to look over Arthur's shoulder. "And Mister Callahan is your…?"

"My cousin, sir."

Detective Ross let out a snort, but further remained silent.

The sheriff seemed to be thrown off a little by his companions behavior, but went on: "Oh good. Good to see you have stopped walking about town without protection. These are some rough parts of the world, miss. Not a place for someone like you to walk about unaccompanied."

Before I could respond, detective Ross interjected: "We have the description of a white female and Mexican looking man fleeing away from the crime scene. You don't happen to know any more about that, do you?" His cold eyes boring into mine.

"No sir, as I have told the sheriff..- I gave him a sweet smile -I was so afraid that I had my eyes closed the entire time."

It must be taken as a sign of the general opinion on women at the time that this was even remotely close to an acceptable explanation. I felt ridiculous saying it, but by the look of sympathy in the young sheriff's eyes I saw that he, at least, believed me.

"And I suppose that is why they saved you? Because you were so afraid?" The disgust apparent in the detective's voice.

Arthur took a step forward, practically standing chest to chest with the man. "Is this conversation goin' anywhere, or are you just in the business of frightening a lady?"

The detective was almost fully blocked from my view, I could only see his eyes sticking out from above Arthur's shoulder. There was no fear in them, only open loathing. "It is my business, mister Callahan, to rid this godforsaken place off the vermin that insists on living outside of the law. It is my business to make sure the people who killed an innocent man are put to justice. It is my business to make sure something like this never happens again."

"Oh, sure.. You tell it all nice. But let's not forget, whose business you is actually protectin'." Arthur's voice was low, threatening. "A big feller like you didn't come here for some simple robbery. You have come to make sure it is safe for them rich city folk to settle down here. Startin' factories and put everyone out of business. Leavin' them no other choice than slave away, until their hands are bleedin' and backs are broken."

"You have given this a lot of thought, Mister Callahan."

"You have no idea, Detective Ross." I saw Arthur's hands move towards his holstered gun. Fingers flexing and ready to strike at any moment.

"Arthur, my boy!" The voice I would recognise everywhere came from behind me. We all turned towards it.

Dutch came sauntering up, his thumbs looped around his belt. His face was jovial, kind. As if he hadn't just walked into a situation ready to combust.

"What's going on, son?" Dutch patted Arthur on his back. "Who are your friends?"

"This is your.. Son?" The sheriff said, eyeing both men incredulously. Undoubtedly making the same age comparison I did when I first met them.

"Adoptive son, yes sir." He extended a hand towards the younger man. "My name is Peter, Peter Callahan."

"Ah, so that must mean you are Miss Hepburn's uncle!" The sheriff shook his hand, seemingly relieved there was a distraction.

Without missing a beat, Dutch put his arm around me and said: "Quite right sir. And with whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

"I am Sheriff Martin O'connell. And this is my colleague Detective Ross."

"How very nice to meet you both. Is there something we can help you with?"

"The detective and I were just asking Miss Hepburn some questions regarding the dressmaker robbery." The sheriff said, an uncomfortable line in his shoulders, while he cautiously flicked his eyes to the detective.

"Oh yes, I've heard. Terrible business. Left my niece shaken up pretty bad." Dutch said solemnly.

He couldn't have known to say that. He couldn't have know that was the story I'd spun. Yet, he picked up on it. Inferring it from the situation. I only then realised how good Dutch was at this. How natural being a conman came to him. It was effortless. I didn't know whether that was a relief or if it frightened me.

"If there is anything we can do to help, please, just say the word."

Before the sheriff could answer the detective said icily: "I think we have all we need for now." And spun on his heel, moving back towards the sheriff's office.

The younger man looked at us and gave us an apologetic shrug of his shoulders. "I guess we will see each other around." He shook hands with Arthur and Dutch, planted a kiss on my knuckles, and left.

I waited until he had entered and was out of sight before I let out a deflating sigh. A deep sense of dread had settled in my stomach, and it was only worsened when Arthur turned to Dutch and said: "We are in some deep trouble here. That was one of them Pinkertons. Maybe it's best if we pack our things and move."

"Well, you ain't wrong." Dutch said thoughtfully. "But Micah has spotted a great opportunity for us. Givin' us all the money we need to move out west and settle."

Arthur furrowed his brow. "You think it's wise to take up some high profile job right now? With that feller breathin' down our necks? You should've seen him, he was ready to single handedly pick her up and carry her to the gallows himself." He threw a wide gesture my way and his voice was hard in restrained anger.

"Nonsense Arthur. The one good thing about Pinkertons is that they have to follow their precious law. And they have no proof that Miss Davis was involved in the robbery in any other way than being a victim. We just lay low for a while, and when things have settled we continue the plan."

"Plan? What plan?" I had never seen Arthur look so aggravated at Dutch, normally he worshiped the ground the man walked on.

Dutch put a steadying hand on Arthur's shoulder: "Relax, my boy. We will discuss it later. Right now you are drawing too much attention and scaring Miss Hepburn half to death." He gave a friendly nod of his head to a couple passing by. "Now, take her back home. And wait for me there. Micah and I aren't ready yet, we will be back in a couple of weeks."

"A couple of weeks, Dutch. Are you crazy?" Arthur hissed through his teeth.

Dutch gave him a cold look. "Don't you trust me, boy? Have I ever lead you down a wrong path?"

Arthur looked away for a moment, then shook his head, shoulders hunching. "No, Dutch. You're right. I'm sorry."

I stared at them blankly. I agreed with Arthur, I thought it would be best if we'd move on. Or at least, if I moved on. And disagreeing was one thing, but the emotional strong arming I just saw Dutch perform? It didn't sit well with me. It made me uncomfortable seeing Arthur brushed off like that, especially since I had this gnawing feeling that only Dutch would get away with it like this. And my suspicion was that Dutch knew this all too well.


	12. Chapter 12

I had a week to get Max into a state that made her safe to travel with. Then Arthur and I would go on our hunting trip, which meant I shouldn't just be able to ride her, but she shouldn't get scared or skittish at the sight of other animals.

The best way to practice this, would be to take her out on short rides around camp. The first four days, I stayed close and ride along the outskirts, working on her confidence. Today, I set out to go a little further and see how she would do.

We set out, riding through a shallow part of the river into the dry fields beyond. The sun stood high in the sky, causing sweat to break out on my brow and back. The incessant chirping of crickets and buzzing of flies a steady musical beat.

I wanted to find some deer, to see how Max would react to them. So far she was being really good. I still refused to use a bit, and she started to become more sensitive to the pressure of my leg, seat, and the rope halter. We were making real progress.

It was nice, being out by myself. I couldn't really remember the last time I had been truly alone, without anyone near. It was freeing, somehow. For a moment not having to worry about anything.

To be fair, this was also the effect riding a horse had had on me since I was a little girl. It helped me dealing with growing up without a father, having to adjust to a new family, feeling like an outcast. In a sense, I supposed my situation now wasn't so different from then. But on the back of a horse, my problems seemed to disappear. The only thing I focused on was whether or not the horse was doing what I wanted it to do.

I scratched my fingers through Max's mane. She was so beautiful. I still marveled at the fact that I actually had my own horse. I used the bigger portion of the dress money to pay back Uncle, meaning that this animal below me was truly mine.

I flexed my calves, spurring her into a trot. She responded immediately. Starting to get acutely attuned to me. And I to her. I was able to read her better, what the flicking of her tail meant, the turn of her ear. Knowing when to comfort or be stern.

We followed a path, when in the distance I saw a large herd of buffalo grazing quietly. "Well, girl. Let's give this a go." I picked up the reins and steered her towards them.

When we were close Max started to get restless. Sidestepping, and trotting in place, snorting nervously. "Whoa there girl. You are doing fine.." I said while leaning forward to pet her neck. I halted her, to give her some time to look at the animals in front of us and get used to them.

Suddenly I heard gunshots in the distance. Max's head flew up at the same time as those of the bisons. More shots were fired, and a low rumbling started to pulse through the ground.

Dust gathered behind the large animals as the back off the herd started running towards us. More and more of them started to join the frantic flight, their anxious cries filling my ears.

I turned Max's head and urged her to a head long galop. I needed to get out of their path. I turned my head over my shoulder and saw they were approaching fast. I brought my heels to the horse's sides, and stood in the stirrups to give her back more room to move freely. I was glad that I had found some of my old riding form again.

I moved Max sideways, trying to steer us out of the path of the trampling beasts. The horse ran as fast as she could carry us, but I still felt she was responding to me. She hadn't been lost in blind panic.

I heard men yelling, laughing and again the piercing sound of a revolver being fired.

I looked over my shoulder, and saw we were almost safe. The horse beneath me stumbled a little, exhaustion settling in. "Just a little bit more, Max!" I yelled, my legs burning in effort. Dust clung to the sweat on my face, drying up my mouth and I could feel my heart pounding wildly.

When I saw a bison's wild shaking head coming up next to us, I veered Max straight to the side. I had no time to look first, so all I could do was hope. But it was safe. We didn't collide with anything. Looking around me I saw the herd at my right. I was out. Slowin down, I watched them run past me followed closely by some young boys on horses who shoot their guns in the air herding the animals forward. One looked at me with a wide smile and touched the brim of his hat.

I halted next to an old run down cart, and tried to catch my breath. Beneath me, I could feel Max doing the same. "You have done so well, sweety!" I bend over, putting my arms around her wet neck and petting her chest.

The adrenaline made me a bit dizzy, but I felt exhilarated and let out a wild laugh. "Holy shit, Max. I can't believe we came out of that ok!" I had to fight the urge to do a fist pump in the air.

"That's something you don't see in New York, is it?" A man came out from behind the cart. His face was open and friendly. He wore a black and white suit, with a large top hat.

"Indeed it isn't!" I said without thinking. Then it clicked and I looked down at the man, who had come to stand beside Max. "How did you..?"

"Ah, I have a knack for reading people." He waved my comment away casually. "Especially those who have wound up lost." His white gloves crips and clean, which in this dusty landscape was a feat in and on its own.

"I don't know what you are…"

"Caterina Maria Davis, born in 1988, waking up one day in 1899. I would say that you are about as lost as they come." He said with a friendly smile.

I stared at him incredulously. I searched for the question I wanted to ask first. "How do you… What has... Who are you?"

"Who I am, or how I know are hardly the relevant questions to ask." His voice steady and kind. "The important thing is that I know you and the only interesting question to ask is what has happened to you. Don't you think?" He stared up at me expectantly.

I didn't know if he was waiting for an answer, but I was dumbfounded. _Who the hell is this guy? _I wondered if I should feel scared and run, but if this man really has answers, I'd want to hear them.

When I just stared at him apprehensively, he let out a small chuckle. "Don't worry, I am not going to hurt you. Quite the opposite. I want to help you."

"You are going to help me? Why?"

"Ah, again with the irrelevant questions." He sounded vaguely disappointed. "Would you like to hear about what happened, instead?"

I only nodded. My mind raced with questions. I had never seen this man before, who was he? Was this even real?

"What happened to you is the result of boys playing with toys they don't understand." Although he still sounded calm and unaffected, the line of his mouth had hardened. "You humans are just smart enough to stumble on things you have no business with. Things that aren't for you." He looked away for a moment, as if to collect himself. "There is this man, who will be born in about thirty years and goes by the name Francis Sinclair. He has created a machine with which he can travel through time. The thing he doesn't know however, is that the universe will always demand balance. So for one person added into a timeline, another must be replaced. So far, he has upturned the lives of seven people. One for each jump. Misplacing them in time and space and leaving me to clean up his mess."

"And, how do you do that? Cleaning up his mess?" I asked hesitantly.

"Finally a good question." He said with a broad genuine smile. "Sadly, I can't give you the precise planning. For now I just wanted to see how you were doing after the unfortunate situation with Number Four."

"Number four?"

"Ah, yes. We call you, the people who have been misplaced, by their numbers. You are Number Three." He gave an apologetic shrug. Then, cleaning an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve he continued: "Number Four couldn't handle it, he went crazy, stopped eating and eventually came to his end prematurely. A very sad situation. To be fair to him, going 400 years into the future is much harder than back into the past. At least you had some sort of knowledge about this time."

I supposed that was true. I could only imagine how bewildering it must be to a place you don't recognise at all. "And now you have seen me, and know I am still eating, what now?"

"I don't know." He said, a small note of irritation in his voice. "We know he will come back to this time, but we have no idea when. He screwed up the entire timeline. However, when he does. We plan on sending you back to the day you first time traveled. And hope dat replacing you with you doesn't cause any more annoying side effects."

"This is probably a wrong question again, but.. What do you mean when you say _we_?"

He barked a laugh. "You are a quick learner, no wonder you fare this well. When I say _we _I actually mean _me. _It's just that I travel so often, I keep bumping into myself." He gave me a wink.

My mind reeled. I couldn't keep up with him, it was just too much.

"Allright, Caterina Maria Davis. It was good to see you that you are doing well, all things considered. We will meet again." He started to walk away from me, but then threw over his shoulder: "You know, I normally don't approve of these things. But in your case, I would advise you learn how to fight and make sure you stay alive until our next meeting. He will teach you how, if you push him a little." And when I blinked he was gone. Wildly I scanned the landscape around me, thinking I must have missed him. But he was nowhere to be seen.

_What a strange man. _

I wasn't sure where to go from here. What to do with this information? I would have to change my plans. God knows when I would see him again. Would it be a week? A year? Ten years?

I thought about the others. Seven more people were stranded somewhere, in a different time from their own. Or, now only six. I felt my stomach churn a little thinking about the person who'd been send four hundred years into the future. Can you imagine the world he must have found? I couldn't. I felt bad for him, while at the same time feeling profoundly lucky I hadn't ended up there.

The man had been right. All things considered my situation could have been far worse. I could have been found by someone else than Lenny. I didn't even want to think about the possibility.

The one thing that hadn't changed was my resolution to learn how to fight. Even if the man hadn't told me, I still would have. I knew that it was a necessity in this place. If I wanted to live, and return back home, I would have to learn how to defend myself.

I turned my attention back to Max, who had started grazing quietly. "You are ready, aren't you girl?"

With that I picked up my reins and rode back to camp, time to get myself some gear.


	13. Chapter 13

I was ready. I had my gear packed, Max tacked and was now sitting on a log next to the smouldering embers of the dying campfire twiddling my thumbs while watching the sun rise over the river. I had woken up early this morning, way too early. But I couldn't contain my excitement. Today Arthur and I would set out north and I would finally, finally learn how to defend myself.

Ofcourse, Arthur thought he was going to teach me how to hunt, which was true.. Up to a certain point. I was sure he would eventually understand I needed to be able to take care of myself.

I checked my gear again, to make sure I had everything. I had asked Charles if he could get me a rifle and a coat in town, to avoid another run in with detective Ross. The name send an uncomfortable shiver down my spine, and I had a distinct sense that our business together wasn't done.

I picked at my dirty fingernails.

I wondered about the Dutch's plan. From what I gathered from the whispered conversations between Arthur and some men in camp, he was probably planning a heist of sorts. I knew it wasn't my place to complain about it, but damn.. That just seemed like a horrible idea. Not now, not here. Not with that detective so close on our tail.

The idea only strengthened my resolve to learn how to fend for myself. I was going to need it. Besides, Karen was allowed to shoot and 'ride with the men' as Arthur had called it. No reason I shouldn't.

Now, all I needed was for Arthur to wake up so we could go.

I waited for another half hour. The sun now fully over the horizon by now, it's light reflecting on the calm water of the river. A soft breeze playing with my hair. If only I could be a calm as the scene in front of me, instead I was restless. I'd crossed my legs and my foot was tapping the ground impatiently. For the hundredth time I looked over my shoulder towards Arthur's tent. Willing it to open and for him to step out.

Still nothing.

I gave up. I stood and with a determined stride made my way towards where he was sleeping. I swepped aside the piece of cloth that served to give him privacy. I picked up his saddlebags that I found in the corner and threw them on his sleeping form.

With a cheery voice I said: "Up and ready, cowboy. It's time to go!"

He grumbled, pulled up the sheets over his head and turned to the side away from me.

I walked over to shake his shoulder. "Come on! Please?"

"If you haven't brought a cup of coffee, I'd advise you to go. Now." His voice muffled by the blanket.

Well, that I could fix.

When Arthur was finally up and dressed, he was in a mood. Barely looking at me, and packing his stuff with jerky, angry movements. When he spoke it was in grunts or single syllables. At one point I thought I heard him mumble something about women and a pain in the ass.

I ignored it. Practically jumping up and down next to Max. I stopped the words _come on! _from coming out of my mouth, because I genuinely believed he'd call off the whole thing if I pushed him more.

Finally, finally, he put a feet in his stirrup and lifted himself into the saddle. Without looking if I followed he spun Boudicea around and rode off.

_Fine.. I probably deserved this._

Arthur had filled me in today would be a long days ride. But I underestimated what that meant for my ass. Even when I still rode a lot, as a young girl, it was almost never longer than an hour or two.

As the day went on, sun rising higher, crossing over our heads and then lowering again, my mood soured. I was twisting in the saddle, trying to find a more comfortable position to sit in. The muscles on the insides of my thighs straining painfully.

The lower my spirits became, the more amusement I saw on Arthur's face. "Come on, cowgirl. You wanted to learn how to be all wild 'n free. Live like an outlaw 'n everythin'. Get a move on!"

My eyes shot daggers at him and he chuckled softly. But his relentless pace didn't slow.

Before I had lost all dignity and asked _are we there yet!?, _we reached a small town in the foothills. The sign at the beginning of the mainstreet told me it was called Strawberry.

Even with the considerable amount of pain, I couldn't help but notice how wonderful the little town was. The fresh mountain air, mixed with the smell of wet pine forest. The crips little rivers setting in motion a large water wheel. I loved it.

When Arthur guided us towards the hotel, he shot over his shoulder: "Let's get a good night rest, before we set out tomorrow."

I rode Max to a horse station, and with a painful groan lifted my leg out of the saddle and let myself slide to the ground. My legs were stiff and my back and ass ached painfully. "I need a bath." I let out, with a pained expression.

The bath was wonderful. The warm water soaking into my cramped up muscles, coaxing them to relax. I lolled my head back over the rim of the tub when I heard a knock on the door.

"When you're done, we are going to get something to eat. I am starving!" Arthur yelled before I could answer.

"Would you give me a minute? I also need to wash my clothes."

"Wear something else then!"

"_were something else then." _I mocked him quietly.

"I heard that!" A fist slammed the door, but from the footsteps on wood I knew he'd left.

Not ten minutes later I walked down the stairs of the hotel towards the foyer. My pants and blouse were still soaking wet and hanging to dry, so I had to wear the only other item of clothing I possessed. The dress Tilly and Mary-Beth had given me. Not the most comfortable, but it would do. I had changed the green tartan belt for a leather one, wearing the stag head buckle.

I looked at Arthur who sat with a small leather book in his hands, seeming to draw something on its pages. When he looked up and saw me coming towards him, he immediately snapped it shut and put it away into his satchel.

I looked at him curiously: "What was that?"

"Nothin' for you to worry about. Let's go." He grabbed my shoulder and turned me towards the door.

Dinner was spent in comfortable silence. Only commenting on how the food was good. It was nice not having the feeling that I needed to make conversation, that being quiet, just sitting together, was not awkward.

I looked at him over my almost finished plate. He'd shaved, making the scar on his chin more noticeable again. With his broad shoulders in a white shirt, and black and red vest, he almost seemed civilized. Except for his scar. I couldn't keep my eyes from it, for some reason. Utterly fascinated. I wanted to draw my fingers over it, my lips, my teeth. _No. Stop. _Where was my mind going?

"You wanna stay for a drink?" He asked me after the waitress had taken our plates.

I nodded.

We were nursing our third glass of brandy when I couldn't take it anymore. "How did you get the scar?" I said while rubbing my finger over my chin, indicating which one I meant.

A slow grin spread across his face: "I wondered when you were going to ask me that. You've been staring at it all evening. Not very ladylike, asking a man such personal things." He gave me a wink.

"I think we've established my lack of ladylike attributes more than enough already."

"Oh, but it's one of my favorite subjects."

I arched a brow, but ignored him when I asked again: "So how did you get it?"

"What if I don't want to tell you?"

"Is it a secret?" this peaked my interest all the more. What could be so bad that he didn't want to tell me?

"I tell you what. You ask me a question, and then I get to ask you one." His smile turning mischievous.

I considered him for a moment. And maybe it was the third brandy I was warming between my hands, maybe it was my growing fascination, or maybe it was both. But I said: "Ok…" Only a hint of wariness in my voice.

He sat back, giving me a pensive stare. Then while looking over to the bar and gesture for two more drinks, he said: "I tripped and fell onto a pig's feeding troth."

I snorted: "You did not.."

"I did!" His eyes glittering with unuttered laughter.

I slapped his arm."You are such an asshole."

Now he let out a real laugh. "You have learned a valuable lesson today, Miss Davis. Never trust an outlaw." He drew a hand over his mouth and chin, letting it glide down to his chest and then back up to grab his shoulder. I couldn't help but stare at the tanned patch of skin at the base of his neck, that was revealed by the movement.

"Tell me something about where you came from." He asked.

"It's different." I said deadpan.

The waitress came and put down our drinks, when she left Arthur said in a low voice: "Touché, guess you've become more of an outlaw than I took you for."

I bit down my self satisfied grin. "I tell you what. Play truth or dare with me, and you might get some more answers." I don't know why I said it. It was stupid, dangerous. But I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to know who he was, I wanted to know his secrets. The liquid courage helped somewhat, too.

"Truth or dare?" He questioned.

"It's a game we play, back home. We each take turns choosing truth or dare. Depending on the answer the other can ask a question or demand an action. You can pass one time. The question or dare can not be asked again."

He looked at me for a long moment, seemingly debating whether the pros outweighed the cons and finally deciding that they did. "Ok, let's play."

"Let's flip a coin who has to go first."

"No, let me try and be the gentleman. I'll go first. Dare."

I sat back and looked around me. My eyes fell on a man, draped over a table. The surrounding bottles suggested he was near passed out drunk. With a glint in my eye, I pointed at the man and said: "Get him to sing a song."

Arthur looked to where I was pointing and said: "Well, but that's just easy!" He stood up, walked to the bar to order a drink and made his way over to the man. He shook the drunk man's shoulder and said: "Look, feller. Got you a drink."

The man's eyes cracked open, and a crooked toothed smile appeared on his face, his hand reaching for the drink Arthur held extended.

Arthur started in a low baritone: "When I was just a lad, you know. I met a gal from 'ol Bordeaux. She had blond hair and blue eyes too. She let me ride on the ring-dang-do. The ring-dang-do, now what is that."

As if on cue several people in the bar started to join in: "The ring-dang-do, now what is that. It's soft and round like a pussy cat…"

The drunk man jumped up and bleared out of rhythm and out of tune: "It's got a hole in the middle and split in two! AND THAT'S WHAT YOU CALL THE RING-DANG-DO!"

The whole bar was filled with roaring laughter and singing, with Arthur singing the verses and everyone, including the man, the refrain. When they finished people raised their cups and glasses in cheers, a few slapping Arthur on the back and shoulders when he came swaggering back towards me, clearly very pleased with himself.

"Classy.." Was all I said, biting away a laugh.

"What?" He gave me an innocent shrug. "You wanted me to get him to sing, didn't ya?"

"I guess I did. What's that saying? Be careful what you wish for?"

He cracked a smile. "So, your turn?"

I considered this a moment. Let's start this off easy. "Dare."

"Coward.." He scoffed.

"What! you choose dare too." I said with a mix off laughter and outrage.

"I ain't got anythin' interesting to tell. But alright, I dare you to choose truth next round."

"That is completely not how this works."

"Is that a pass?"

"No, that just not how this-"

"Is that a pass?!" He interrupted. Eyes gleaming.

"You are an obnoxious ass, do you know that?" I said with a sigh.

"So I have been told." There was no remorse in his voice.

"Fine! I'll choose truth next round." I threw up my hands.

"Good. And because I ain't mean. I'll go for truth as well." I wanted to bat at the smirk on his face.

But, very well. He wanted to play dirty, he could have it dirty. "Have you ever been in love?"

I saw his grin tighten, and eyes harden. Hit a bullseye, it seems. I eagerly leaned forward.

"Yes, I was in love once. Not entirely sure I ain't still. Proposed marriage twice."

I didn't want to feel the sharp pang of jealousy. It was stupid, selfish. But I couldn't stop it from uncoiling in my stomach. "Who?" I said softly.

"That's two questions."

I just kept staring him down. The bustle in the room seemed to quiet down, I didn't notice what was going on around me. My full focus on the man in front of me.

He surrendered. "A woman named Mary. The daughter of one o' them rich city folk. He wasn't to keen on me, and frankly that feelin' was entirely mutual. We were just eighteen when we met at a theatre show. I can still remember what she looked like, with her pretty hair and fine clothes. I asked her to marry me, all but a few months later. And she was foolish enough to say yes. Until dear old daddy interfered and broke it off. She was too scared to stand up to him and finally married someone else." His voice laced with bitterness. He didn't meet my eyes, just staring at his hands that lay in front of him on the table.

"The other one. I didn't love her. Not really. Only trying to do the right thing. But she wouldn't have me neither." A cynical smile played on his lips. "She turned out to be smarter than I gave her credit for."

Despite my curiosity, I didn't press him any further. I could tell he had already shared more than he was really comfortable with. Instead, I reached to grab his hand. "If she wouldn't have you, see was an idiot." As soon as I spoke the words, I knew how truly I felt them. "And as for Mary. She sounds like a scared little girl, who doesn't deserve you."

"Ah, see. That's where you have it backwards." His smile turning self deprecating.

"Don't." I squeezed his hand. "Don't put yourself down like that." It was strange, feeling both protective and relieved. Relieved because, stupidly, I was happy she was out of the picture.

"Ah well, it was a long time ago anyway." He pulled his hand from my grip and waved dismissively. "'sides, you can now cheer me up by answering my question." And just like that, he snapped back to the swaggering attitude he had before. It was almost perfect, except for the slight tightness around his eyes.

"When we first met, you said something about wanting to go back to 2019. What did you mean by that?"

Now it was my turn to look away. Softly I said: "I thought you'd forgotten about that."

With this finger he tapped his temple: "I might not be the brightest, but I don't forget important things."

"Well you can forget about this, because it's not important."

He let out a sigh. "Are you going to be difficult about every question? I answered two of yours, I think you owe me at least one."

I was silent for a long moment. Contemplating. Weighing my own courage. Did I dare say it out loud? What stopped me? I didn't think he would abandon me anymore. I knew he wouldn't. But I was still scared, scared that he would think I was crazy. Scared to think he would never look at me the same. And honestly, I felt embarrassed saying it. Knowing full well I'd sound completely insane.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I tried again. Nothing.

"Pass." The word barely forming on my lips.

He was right. I was a coward. I bit my lip, hating that I couldn't get the words out. Hating that I was this stupidly scared.

"That alright, Miss Davis." His voice a comforting drawl. "You can tell me when you're ready."

My eyes snapped up at him. Gone was the playfulness on his face. Only acceptance.

"I'm sorry."

With a shrug he said: "I think it's getting late. We should head back and get to bed."

The short walk back to the hotel, was spent in silence. But our bodies kept bumping into each other, almost like we couldn't help but drawing close.

When we arrived on the upper floor he brought me to the door of my room. I opened in and stepped inside, but before closing it behind me I turned around in the doorway. "Thank you for tonight, Arthur. I hope…" I broke off. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable. Sharing what you did."

"It's not good for the soul, to keep everything in. Is it?" He gave me a knowing stare.

I smiled softly. "Maybe one day, I'll be able to learn from you."

"I hope you do, Miss Davis. I hope you do."

He took my hand, and drew my knuckles to his lips. His lips soft against my skin, a stark contrast with the scratching of his beard. It send a ripple down my back, to the pit of my stomach. The air surrounding us almost electric, it made me aware of every inch of my body. Every inch of it urging me to lean into him.

His mouth lingered for a moment, and he cast his eyes to mine, then to my mouth. For a second, one damned, hopeful second, I thought he'd kiss me. I could feel my body angle towards him already, chin rising. But he dropped my hand, and with a tap to the brim of his hat said: "Goodnight, Miss Davis." He turned around and walked to the room opposite of mine.

I remained where I was, until he'd entered and closed the door behind him.

Today, Dear Reader, I proved not only to be a coward. But also an idiot.


	14. Chapter 14

"Now, put the rifle to your shoulder."

The morning had started early, with a rapt knock on the door by Arthur. We'd ridden off to a secluded spot, next to a shallow part of a mountain creek. When we arrived, he'd started gathering medium sized rocks and placed them about sixty feet away from where I was standing on a large boulder.

And now, finally, he was teaching me how to shoot.

"Relax your stance." He was eying me critically from a few feet away. "No, that's not relaxing, that is sagging."

I let out a deep breath. Never in my life had I held a gun before. I didn't have the slightest inkling of how to use it, how to stand. To his great amusement he even had to load it for me.

The rasp of a match being lit caught my attention and my eyes moved towards the sound.

With a cigarette hanging from his mouth he mumbled: "Never take your eyes of the target, Miss Davis."

I lowered the gun and said with with a voice laced with annoyance: "Could you not distract me?"

He took a long pull, blew out a large cloud of smoke and then gestured with his cigarette. "You think an animal isn't going to do its utmost not gettin' shot? It shouldn't matter what happens around you. All that matters is having your aim on the target."

I huffed slightly, but put the butt back to my shoulder. I let out a deep breath, trying to release the tension in my arms and spine.

"Alright. Now, ease your finger and the trigger and when you are ready-"

Before he could end his sentence there was a loud bang, causing a flock of ducks to fly off with indignant quacking.

The rifle recoiled with such a force that it flew from my hands, over my shoulder and back on the ground behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I stared at it dumbfounded.

"Now, Miss Davis, I didn't realize I would have to explain the very basic principle of holding on to your gun to you." He said in a flat tone.

I shot him a finger and I could see him pursing his lips and looking at the ground to hide his smile.

I don't really know what I'd expected from shooting, but it hadn't been this. It looked so easy, it should be easy, right? You just point and shoot?

When he'd gotten himself back under control he said, with a suitably serious expression: "Now, try again. And be softer with your finger, you are pushing too hard. You ain't in control of what's happenin'."

I took another deep breath. Letting the air leave my lungs slowly. I pulled up the gun again, reloaded it, and softly pressed down my finger. Another shot fired, and although I managed to hold on to my rifle this time, the bullet flew wide. Nowhere near the perched rocks.

_Damnit, damnit, damnit. _I cursed under my breath.

He just hummed and gestured to try again.

I did. ten times, twenty times, and.. Nothing. No bullet came even close to hitting the target. The little rocks almost seemed to mock me.

My frustration started to build. Seriously, how hard could this be?!

"How about you actually teach me what I have to do, instead of just standing there." I snapped.

"How 'bout you relax a little, instead of tryin' to shoot all strung up like a bunny about to get hit by a horse." He was leaning against a large tree trunk, hands on his gunbelt in front of him. "Try to get a feel for the weapon first. How to hold on when it recoils without havin' to brace, where the trigger will fire.." He waved his hand. "The rest will come later."

And so I tried again. And again. And again. Finally one bullet grazed the edge of one the small targets, causing it to bounce off the large boulder. "Yes!" I threw a fist in the air. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

I looked over to Arthur, and his face seemed to be painted with something that was suspiciously close to pride. A second later it was gone and he said: "Again."

I must have shot through a fortune in bullets and besides that one lucky shot, none of them hit. I started to edge my way closer to the large rock. Trying to make it a little easier. But Arthur kept sending me back. "Your target ain't gonna be conveniently close, neither, Miss Davis. Back it up!"

The sun was hanging low on the horizon when he finally said: "Yeah, that's enough for today. Let's head back. I am starvin'."

My shoulders, neck and arms ached with all the strain I had put them through today. My vision had started to become blurry with trying to focus on the tiny rocks. I had thought I would feel powerful, in control, when wielding a weapon. Instead I just felt even more weak, and tired.

And although I didn't want to show him I was glad to head back and rest.

That night when I laid in bed, with the smell of gunpowder refusing to leave my hands even after vigorous scrubbing, I was exhausted. And before my head fully hit the pillow I'd fallen asleep.

I dreamt about a deer. It's beautiful fine head adorned with wide antlers. I was looking at it through the grass, watching it eat calmly.

It was right where it was supposed to be, comfortable with itself and its surroundings. His big brown eyes soft and tail flicking away flies.

It took a few sure footed steps towards me, before suddenly lifting his head nervously.

I tried to push myself lower, deeper into the grass so I wouldn't disturb him. But a large steel and wood object was preventing me from doing so. I looked down and saw I was holding a rifle.

I wasn't just watching the deer. I was hunting it.

I slowly lifted the rifle, steadying it with my elbow on the ground, and cocked it. Looking along the barrel I aimed towards the animal's head. His eyes had found mine, but he didn't move. He didn't run. Instead he lowered his head, holding it still. Almost as if to help me kill it.

I took a deep breath, and slowly eased my finger down on the trigger. But I couldn't press down. I couldn't put a bullet between the beautiful eyes. The eyes I knew, somehow. I a way you can know things, only in dreams. Looking at one thing, but seeing -or rather feeling- another.

A familiar voice came from the deer, although his mouth wasn't moving. It was a playful, almost sarcastic voice. "Come on. Shoot already, would ya?"

I shot up straight in my bed, for a moment bewildered by my dark surroundings. Slowly my eyes adjusted to the faint moonlight creeping through the thin curtains and I realised I was in my room, at the hotel in Strawberry.

I took in a deep breath. The fresh mountain air mixed with the smell of the old hardwood floor and the last smouldering embers of the fireplace was comforting, calming my thudding heart.

I never had such vivid dreams, usually I could barely remember anything about it the second I woke up. But now, I could still conjure up those eyes. Those strange, yet familiar eyes. And that voice, the voice I knew.

I didn't want to think about what it meant. The implications it had. No, I just really didn't want to go there. So I turned around and pulled the blanket back over myself.

I slept fitfully that night. Unable to sink back into a deep slumber, instead edging around it. Not quite awake, not really a sleep. When Arthur knocked on my door in the morning, it was almost a relief.

As you can imagine, that day of practicing was almost worse than the first. I came to learn quickly that Arthur didn't hide his annoyance well.

"Jesus, you must be the worst shot I've ever seen. Even Sean could beat you!"

"Would you shut up and let me concentrate?"

"Concentrate?! CONCENTRATE?!" His voice gruff with anger. "We've been here all but two days, and not once have you hit a stone while it wasn't an accident. You've gone through multiple jobs worth of bullets, which you ain't payin' for, by the way.."

"I will get you the money back, if that's such a problem." I dropped the rifle to my side. Exhaustion making my already short temper, even more flammable. I stalked over to him, getting in his face. "If you don't want to stay here while I practice, I'm not stopping you!"

"As if I could let you handle a gun by yourself. You probably find a way to shoot yourself!" His temper matching mine. "Although, I guess, at least that would mean you'd actually hit something!"

"Or, you know.. You could try to actually teach me how to do this right, instead of just standing there.." I poked my finger on his chest. "Only saying: _again_." My imitation of his voice definitely much less flattering than he deserved.

He barked a cynical laugh. "You want me to teach you somethin'? As if you'd listen long enough to learn!" His large hand folded around my wrist, preventing me from prodding his chest.

"I would listen if you'd tell me something useful!"

"Ok, how about this for something useful. You ain't a good shot and you shouldn't try to learn it. There are enough people around to protect you."

"Karen is allowed to protect herself." I raised my chin, and did my best effort to stare down my nose at him although he was a lot taller than me.

"What Karen does or doesn't do ain't my concern, Cat!" He threw his hands up in exasperation.

I stared at him intently. We were close, so close. Almost touching. I could feel his ragged breaths on my face. His angry expression faded into something else, when his eyes dropped to my mouth, making my insides churn.

"And, I am your concern?" The words breathless. I couldn't keep my eyes off his lips, off his scar, now partially hidden beneath the scruff of a two day beard.

His hands came up to my face, cradling it. He wasn't gentle when he angled my face upwards, and neither was he soft when he pressed his lips to mine.

His kiss was hungry, ravenous, punishing. And I couldn't help but drown in it. His hands roved over my back, my sides, my ass, while my fingers were tangled into his hair, pushing his hat to the ground and pulling him closer to me.

Without taking his mouth from mine, he started pushing me backwards, until I felt the large boulder at my back. He lifted me on top off it, the little stones scattering to the ground, and pulled my legs around me, making me feel him fully against me. He groaned when I tilted my hips, pushing against him harder.

I was half wild with want. A feeling that I had kept bottled up for all these weeks came crashing out with a vengeance. I wanted this man. God, I wanted to feel him everywhere. I wanted to taste the salt on his skin, I wanted to know what he sounded like, what he'd look like when he reached the peak of his pleasure. I wanted to know what he could make me feel, how the beard felt like against the sensitive skin between my legs.

He bit my lip, making me let out a small moan. The feeling shooting down my body, to my core, and I was almost ready to pull my clothes off right then and there. His hand moving from my ribs to the underside of my breast send an electric current through my body, making me arch into his hand. He let out an approving humm, low and hoarse.

I thumbs hooked behind his gunbelt, and I tried to push him even closer to me, trying to ease a slow and yearning ache. I needed more of him, I needed all of him.

But somewhere, in the back of my mind, there was a little voice telling me to stop. I tried to suppress it, to fully give in to the moment. Responsibility be damned. But the little voice wouldn't be silenced. Instead it became louder.

"No.." It compelled me to say, so softly at first I didn't really know if I'd actually said it.

But Arthur stopped immediately. His eyes searching my face.

"No.." The voice made me say again, louder this time.

A look of confusion flashed over his face, then understanding and a flush of red over the bridge of his nose. "Of course, I am sorry Miss Davis." He stepped back, walked towards his hat and put it back on his head. "I hope you will forgive me."

"Forgive you? Arthur, there is nothing to forgive you for. I should apologize to you."

I tried to search for words. To explain that it wasn't that I didn't want him. The problem was that I did. And I didn't want to become tethered to a world I was going to leave, sooner or later. I didn't want to make the situation any messier than it already was.

He handed me Max's reins, and then hoisted himself onto Boudicea. "Come on, Miss Davis. I will take you back to the hotel."

I started at him for a moment and started: "Arthur.. I.."

"No need, ma'am. I always knew you were one of the smarter ones." His smile turned self-deprecating.

_Oh no.. Oh no.._

I cursed myself for my silence during our ride back. I cursed myself for being such a goddamn coward. I cursed myself for not being able to find the right words, or even the wrong words.

When we arrived back at the hotel, Arthur gave me a small tip to his hat and moved up the stairs. Before I could even follow after him, I heard his door slam shut.

I walked into my room, fell to my bed and my arms sprawling wide. I felt miserable. "Well, you fucked that one up royally." I said to myself.

I laid there unmoving, until the light coming through me bedroom window turned a deep orange. I got up and when I moved the curtain to stare outside, the sky was colored in purple, red, and pink.

I had to tell him. I knew that. And I would have to do it now. _Time to put my big girl pants on._

I forced myself out of my room and towards his. I didn't give myself time to reconsider and knocked on the door.

It took awhile for him to open, but when I reached up to knock again the door opened. His face was hard, as if he'd planned to yell at the person disturbing him. But as soon as he recognized me, he turned worried.

"Are you alright? Is something wrong?"

"No Arthur, nothing is wrong." My voice tight. "Remember that question you asked me during dinner? Can you ask me again? I wont pass now."


	15. Chapter 15

He opened the door wider, to let me in. I ducked underneath his arm and walked inside. His small room was outfitted in a mirror image to mine. Only a cabinet, a small dressing table and a double bed. With nowhere else to sit but on the bed, I sat on the edge, my feet dangling over the edge.

He didn't join me, instead stood leaning against the now closed door, his arms crossed across his chest. Although his face didn't look angry, there was something defensive about his posture. He was as cold and distant as the first moments I met him, when he'd pushed me into the alcove with a gun underneath my chin threatening to blow my brains out unless I'd explain myself.

I suppose this moment wasn't too different.

"Arthur.. I…" The words seemed to stuck at the back of my throat. A sheen of cold sweat of my back and forehead.

Looking back at this moment, I feel silly for being this scared. By then I should have known better. But I would like you to imagine telling someone you don't _really _know and on whom you are wholly dependent for survival that you are from the future. I was petrified.

A long silent moment passed, before Arthur let out a sigh. He turned towards the door and started to open it. "Now, Miss Davis, if you wouldn't mind. I've had a very long day.."

"No!" I let out a frustrated groan and threw my head back, eyes squinted shut. I balled my fist and said: "I was born in 1988.." There.. I said it.

"Excuse me?" He stood with his back towards me, hand still on the door handle, looking over his shoulder. His hat low over his eyes, obscuring the upper half of his face in shadow.

I took a deep breath and started my story: "I was born in 1988 and in 2019, while I was driving towards my first day at a new job, I got sent back in time. Your time."

I told him everything. About when he and Lenny found me, I still had no idea. Until I read the newspaper. The shock, hurt and terror I'd felt. And how lonely. I told him how alienating it is, to find yourself in a time you know next to nothing about. About the strange man, and Francis Sinclair. That he'd told me I should learn how to fight, so I would survive long enough for him to send me home.

At some point while I was talking, tears had started to fall down my face. But they weren't out of sadness of shame, they were tears of relief. To finally be able to share it with someone, to not have to hide and watch every word.

I hadn't been looking at him, instead opting to thoroughly study my folded hands. "So.. Now you know everything.."

He walked up to me and crouched in front of my legs, his face angled upwards so I could see his eyes from underneath the rim of his hat.

He handed me a handkerchief, which I took gratefully and started drying my teary face.

"You know-" his face soft and voice kind, with a slight playfull pull to his mouth "-if I was a wise man, I would tell you you'd gone absolutely crazy and drop you off at the nearest doctors station. But you are in luck, and I ain't no wise man. I am a blasted fool."

I frowned at his in surprise. "So, you believe me?"

He looked away from me, staring at nowhere for a moment. "I believe you.."

Just like that. No doubt, no sceptical looks, no accusations of lying.

I placed my hand on his face gently, making him look up at me again. "Thank you. Truly."

His eyes dropped to my lips for a split second, and he straightened himself, letting out a slight cough. "Well, it is the most reasonable explanation for why you are like-" he gestured towards me "-like this." A grin spread across his lips.

I smiled in kind and my arm flung out the slap him on his leg. He caught me wrist before I could hit him. "That man was right, though. You should learn how to survive, at least a little more than you can now. Because right now, you are pathetic."

I let out a hard laugh while yanking my wrist free again, he let me. "I'm just not used to such savagery."

At that his face turned somber. "So, they win, huh? Them pinkertons and the other _civilized _folk?"

I considered that for a moment. "I guess. But it's not all bad.."

"No? Can you still live free?"

"Depends on what you mean by free. I felt free. For a large part at least. It's really quite nice to be able to walk around without the fear of getting shot. It's also nice to be able to vote."

"Women can vote, huh? Well, I suppose I could have guessed that. Them suffragettes bein' as fierce as they are." He drew his hand over his chin and took a few aimless paces though the room, seemingly in thought. "Will you tell me? About your time?"

"Of course, what would you like to know?"

"First, I haven't eaten anything since we came back. You?"

I shook my head.

"Wait here, I'll go get us some food."

When he walked out of the room, I stood and wandered around.

The rush of relief still racing through my body, making me almost light headed. I felt so free, being able to be completely honest about who I was and being met with nothing but acceptance.

I found myself in front of the small dressing table, and saw his satchel laying on top of it. Next to it lay the leatherbound book I saw him drawing in earlier. It was opened on a page that had an unfinished picture on it. The sun had almost set fully, leaving the room in a deep twilight, which made it hard to see what the drawing was supposed to be.

I lit a few candles throughout the room, and my curiosity compelled me to walk back to the little booklet.

I saw it was the figure of a woman holding a gun, the body loosely sketched but the face, my face, detailed. He had drawn me with a look of deep concentration, the tip of my tongue poking out of my mouth slightly, while aiming the gun.

I was speechless, my finger softly tracing the penciled outline, careful not to smudge it. It was a beautiful drawing, so incredibly lifelike, so.. intimate almost. I hadn't seen him draw it when we were out practicing, so he'd draw every line off my face from memory.

I turned away from the table towards the windowsill so I wouldn't be caught snooping. I had a warm feeling in my stomach and no matter how I fought it a slight smile on my lips.

Not a moment too late, because a second later Arthur stepped back into the room. His arms full with an assortment of food and drink. He placed it next to his satchel and walked towards the bed, picked up the blanket and spread it out on the floor. I watched with amusement as he started laying the items on the blanket.

"Are you taking me on a picnic?"

He didn't answer my question. Instead reached out his hand towards me. When I took it, he lead me to the blanket. "Ma'am.." He said with a bow of his head, inviting me to sit.

I clicked my tongue. "Such a gentleman."

With a twinkle in his eye, he sat next to me and opened a bottle of whiskey and poured the liquid into two small glasses. He handed one to me and clinked his against it softly. "To freedom, Miss Davis."

"To freedom, Mister Morgan." The drink spread a delicious warmth through me, and when I downed my second glass the glow of the candle light seemed to bask the room in a soft, glittering, yellow.

"So, what would you like to know?"

We talked for hours. I told him everything he wanted to know. First, that in my time it's very normal to live in stacked up stone houses called apartments, that we don't ride horses other than for hobby or sport, that most of us earn money by sitting behind a desk all day. He had to cut me off from endlessly elaborating on the absolute joy of having your own private toilet and shower.

Then we settled on the topic of my job. If he was surprised by the fact that a woman could be in charge of an entire department, he didn't show it. He just smirked a little.

"What?" I demanded.

"It's just... No wonder you boss everyone around at camp."

"I am not!" I said with a mixture of laughter and indignation in my voice.

"Whatever you say, boss."

"Shut up!" I bumped my shoulder against his, making him smile.

He asked about my family and I told him about my father and how he died, about my mom, stepdad and siblings. Talking about them send a painful pang of loss through me and a single tear made its way down my cheek.

Arthur wiped it away with his thumb. "You'll be happy to see them again."

I nodded. "I miss my mom, terribly."

"Yeah, I know what that's like."

I looked at him. "How did you lose her?"

He let out a sigh, seeming to mull it over a moment, as if uncertain how to begin."I was a young kid." His hand indicated the height of a young boy. "Small, scrawny.. Drove my father insane. He didn't like havin' a weaklin' for a son. He'd have fit, whenever I did somethin' to annoy him. And let me tell ya, I did a lot of things that annoyed him. Like, sitting, or eating, sometimes even breathin'." His voice turned hard, a his upper lip drawn up in disgust.

"When he was done beatin' the livin' daylight out of me, he would took off to god knows where and my mom would come up and clean my wounds. She'd sing to me, until I'd fell a sleep. When I was a little bit older, I noticed that I wasn't even getting the brunt of his anger. My mother took most of the punches. And I swore that when I was older and stronger, I would kill him. So my mom and I could live a nice a quiet life. But before I could, she got sick…"

I took one of his balled fists in my hands and squeezed it softly. "I am sorry."

"That bastard even got himself killed before I could to it." A hard, cynical, smile on his lips.

I didn't know what to say. What was there to say? "I am sorry." I said again, my hand still wrapped around his.

He threaded his fingers through mine and he said: "Ah, well.. It's all a long time ago.. And that lead me to find Dutch and Hosea. So things turned out..." He seemed to look for the right word. "Fine, I guess." The corner of his mouth perked up in a half smile. "If you'd call a life of stealin' and murderin' fine." He took a deep gulp of another glass of whiskey. "In any case, I owe them everythin'. Without them, I don't know what would have become of me."

"You were planning to leave them, at some point." I blurted out.

He shot me a questioning glance, and I could feel my face starting to heat up. "Well, I mean.. You asked two women to marry you. You didn't mean to bring them back to camp, right?"

He pulled his hand from mine. "Truthfully, I hadn't thought that far ahead.."

We sat quiet for a moment. I knew the subject was sensitive, and I didn't want to pry. Besides, I still couldn't fully suppress the jealousy coating my tongue when we talked about these women.

"And you?" He asked, softly.

"And me, what?"

"Well, how does that work in your time. Men still ask women to marry them?"

I smiled. "Yes, they do. But women can ask men too. And not everyone in a relationship gets married. Some people even have kids without being married."

His eyebrows shoot up. "And nobody gets mad about that? The woman's reputation ain't ruined?"

I furrowed my brows. "_A woman's reputation _isn't really a thing anymore. At least, not in the way it is here, now."

"You come from a strange time, Miss Davis."

"I could say the same to you."

He laughed "Got me there.." He stared at me for a moment, as if he wanted to ask something, but didn't there. Before I could tell him _out with it_ he started: "Where you… With someone, before you came here?" He said, the words mumbled.

"No.. I had a few relationships. But they didn't last."

He stared into his empty glass a long while "Then why…." He broke off, and turned his face away from me, but not fast enough for me to miss the red coloring the bridge of his nose. "Nevermind, it's a stupid question."

I bit my lip and stared down at my fingers, inspecting the nails for non existing dirt. "It's not that I don't.. That I don't want too…" What was it about him, that turned me into a blushing schoolgirl. I was a grown woman. I had tough conversations before, and I would have them again. In my former relationships I had always been straightforward about what I wanted. But now.. Now it was different somehow. This, or he, had felt so much more real than anything else I'd ever experienced.

"It's just.. I will be leaving and I don't want to complicate things."

"And you think I would do that to you? That I would stop you from going?"

My head snapped up at him, and I caught is intent gaze in mine. "No.. I mean, that's not.. But it will make it harder to go. And I will have to go. Back to my time I mean."

"I will bring you back myself if I have too."

"Why start something that can end at any time?!" I threw my hands up in exasperation.

"I don't care, Cat." He said with a shrug, matter of factly.

"You can't actually be serious."

Before I could say anythings else his lips were on mine. His hands buried in my hair. The roughness of the last time we kissed, replaced my something else entirely. This was soft. Seductive. His thumb trailed a path from the corner of my mouth to my cheekbone and with a soft bite he coaxed my lips to open further. If I had any defenses left, they shattered when he teasingly let his tongue brush mine, before pulling it back again.

At my soft moan, he deepened the kiss. His hand at the back of my neck, pulling me closer and stroking the sensitive spot behind my ear. I shivered and I could feel his mouth curve into a smile against mine.

I couldn't remember telling my hand to rove over his shoulders and back, but the moving muscles underneath them caught my attention. I had always know he was strong, and had guessed by the broadness of his shoulders, he would have to be well built. But to feel it, to feel the tiny quivers at my touch, it made me want to rip off the shirt he was wearing.

I shuffled closer to him and drew myself up on my knees, pushing my front against his. I just wanted, needed, to be closer. To feel him on me, touching me everywhere. His hands drew down against my ribs and cupped my ass and pulled one leg over his, so I ended up straddling him.

I couldn't catch my ragged breaths when my fumbling fingers started on the buttons of his vest. But before I could finish, I could feel his fingers tighten in my hair, pulling back my head and exposing my throat.

He trailed small kisses and bites down the column and I let out a low moan.

"You are so beautiful like this." His hoarse voice reverberating against my skin.

"Let me touch you.." I whispered breathlessly.

He let out a low chuckle. "Easy, darlin'. Easy." But he started unbuttoning his vest and finally his shirt. My impatient fingers trying to help, only slowed the process. When he just finished the last button I yanked off the black cotton shirt, and my fingers finally slid over his warm, naked skin. It was everything I thought I would be and more.

One hand trailed over his front. Playing with the soft hairs on his chest, following them downwards over his muscled stomach. I could feel his abs twitch and Arthur groaned. When I started to move down even further he grabbed my exploring hand and pulled it away from him. he lifted it up to his mouth and kissed the soft spot of my wrist. Then he pulled me back in for another kiss.

I could feel him start on the top button of my blouse and I kissed him deeper, letting my tongue slide in his mouth, drawing his out and give a slight suck on the tip.

When he drew my shirt off my shoulders he took in a sharp breath. Confused I opened my eyes. He stared down at my breasts with an amazed look in his eye. I followed his gaze and realized I was wearing my modern, black, lace bra. I looked back at him and saw that his pupils had blown wide.

His fingers started trailing the lace, until he reached my stiff nipples. He brushed over them through the scratchy fabric and I hissed my breath.

A deep, sensuous, coil had started to tighten in my the pit of my stomach. A dull ache, that made my hips buck. "Please.."

He kissed me, slow and deep. "Yes, sweetheart. I know what you need.."

I could feel him begin to stand underneath me, and I let out a small protest at the loss of contact. But he lifted me up with one arm at my back and one under my knees. He carried me to the bed and laid me down softly.

He moved over me, carrying his weight on his arms next to my head. He stared down at me for a moment, his eyes hooded. His look moved over my face, to the hair that laid spread out over the pillow, down to my heaving chest. "You are so beautiful.." He said again, his thumb caressing the side of my face.

I bit my lip and his eyes focused on the movement. I let my hands wander up to his shoulders and sliding past his neck into his hair. He shivered. With a half smile I said: "So are you.."

His head moved down and he nibbled on my earlobe, making lowering from my neck to my breast. He pulled down the fabric so it pushed up my breast, giving him easy access to my nipple. He bit is softly, and my hips shot upwards against him.

He moved further down, letting his tongue slide into my belly button. Again my hips reacted.

When he reached the rows of buttons of my pants he made quick work of them. Pulling my pants down and revealing my matching black lace boyshort. He looked back up at me, a wicked smile on his face. "Do you have any more surprises for me?"

I couldn't answer, I could only think of the warm heat between my legs. The need for him to touch me there.

He lowered his head and gave a kiss on the inside of my thigh. The feeling send an electric shock through my body. "Yes.. Oh.. Yes.."

Slowly, so agonizingly slowly, he kissed a trail upwards. With every kiss I arched upwards. Until he finally pulled aside my panty and drew his tongue through my wanting slit. He started slowly, increased his speed to match my moaning. The lace being moved by his face adding a whole new sensation. He pushed my legs open further and put his hands underneath me so he could reach more of me.

I tangled my hands in his hair. "Arthur.. Oh.. Arthur.. Please.."

"Yes. Come for me, darlin'."

He sucked on my clit, and I could feel the tension in my body unspooling. It started with a tingle in the pit of my stomach, sending out shockwaves of fire and ice throughout my body. Making me cry out his name, once more. I thought my whole body would combust.

He pressed a couple more kisses to my thigh, my hip bones, my stomach and finally my mouth.

My world was spinning. Never before had I experienced something like this.

He rolled to his back, pulling me with him. When I laid sprawling over his chest, he kissed the top of my head.

"Get some rest, darlin'."

I angled my head up to look at him. "Don't you…" I trailed off. I had felt him hard against me.

He gave me a soft smile. "Another time, sweetheart. Just sleep now."

My face buried in his chest, his warm arms holding me closely to him, I had never felt safer in my life. I drifted of into a peaceful darkness, and slept better than I had in weeks.


	16. Chapter 16

The next morning I awoke slowly by the chattering of birds, a ray of sunshine peeking through the curtains across my eyes. With my consciousness came a deep feeling of contentment. A feeling that everything was just as it should be. Maybe that should've scared me, warned me off how much more difficult my departure would be. But in that moment, wrapped up in his scent of campfire and pine, I just felt utter bliss.

I turned and stretched lazily, my arms searching for the comforting heat I'd felt at my back the whole night. I found only blankets and pillows.

I cracked open an eye and saw the bed was empty. Frowning, I lifted my head. Where was he? I looked around the room, scanning the floor in search of his discarded clothing but found only mine strewn across the room.

Just as I sat up, holding the blanket to my chest, the door opened with a croak and Arthur's head peeked in. When he saw I was awake, a lazy grin spread across his face.

"Goodmornin' darlin', I brought you some coffee." A few long strides and he was next to the bed, coming to sit beside me on the mattress

The proximity of him made my nerves humm in pleasure. I could still feel the firm, scratchy touch of his calloused hands on my body and missed it acutely.

"A man who brings me coffee in the morning. What more could a girl wish for..." My voice was more hoarse than I anticipated, making it sound much more suggestive than I'd meant. A blush creeped up my face, and I saw him studying it intently.

He handed me the cup, which I took it gratefully. The tin almost so warm I'd burned my fingers, a deep roasted smell filled my nostrils.

Silence fell as I sipped my coffee and I realized that even in the eighteen hundreds, there is this strange phase in an early relationship. You kissed the night before, you could even have had sex, but the morning after there is a new strange distance. Both parties unsure where they stand and whether it's appropriate to touch or kiss one another.

But I wanted him to kiss me so bad, and more than that I wanted to continue where we left off yesterday. A new, deeper flush heated my cheeks and I heard him chuckle softly.

"I am almost scared to ask what you're thinking." He said with a grin, while reaching out and stroking one finger over my upper arm.

Gooseflesh rose on my skin, sending a shiver down my spine and he laughed again. The sound a little breathless and I realized he was breathing heavily, his eyes hooded slightly.

I couldn't help the little pang of satisfaction that I had such an impact on him, and it made me feel slightly devious. A sly smile spreading across my lips.

I handed him the coffee. "Could you set that on the table for me, please? It's a little too hot."

It seemed to take a moment before my question registered, his reaction delayed. When he complied and turned to face me again I slowly dropped the blankets from my chest, letting the rough fabric glide over my breasts.

I could see him struggle to keep eye contact for a moment, before his gaze dropped down to look at my body. He kept rooted in place and for a fearful second I thought I had misread the situation and started lifting the blankets again.

He let out a low sound, something that almost sounded like a growl, and in one swift movement jerked the blankets away from the bed entirely. Leaving me completely uncovered. I looked up at him as he approached me, and I vaguely noticed that I wasn't even the slightest bit embarrassed at being so naked. So exposed.

His large clothed form came standing next to the bed, looming over my bare one. The contrast struck me with a thrill of excitement.

He leaned down a little and his hand cupped my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. I lifted my chin, angling to kiss him, but he didn't meet my lips. Instead, he released my head and let his finger slowly trail a way downwards, starting at my chin and over my throat. Caressing my collarbone and down to my breast.

My nipple perked at his touch, and as if he couldn't help himself he lowered his mouth down to it, giving it a soft nip with his teeth. A hot flash shot through my lower abdomen, making the muscles clench. I fought to keep the moan from coming out, my shoulders straining with effort.

He straightened again, and his finger continued its unhurried journey downwards. Caressing the underside of my breast, to the ticklish part at the side of my ribs, back towards my belly button and hip bone.

I had never thought the touch of someone's finger could drive me so wild. It was too much and too little at the same time. My whole world shrinking to the size of that tiny point of contact. I could feel the place between my legs getting slick with want and I couldn't stop my hips from bucking to urge his finger to where I needed it most.

"Easy, darlin'." He sounded soothing, so damned controlled. But when I looked up into his face and saw the glazed stare and blush on the bridge of his nose, I knew he was barely holding it together also.

I seized his wrist and pulled him over me, crushing my lips to his. Finally feeling his full weight on me, feeling the hard length of him pressing through his jeans onto my belly. It was nearly my undoing.

I spread my legs, letting him fit against me snuggly and he let out a huff of breath. He kissed me, slow and deep. His hands roving of my body, cupping my breasts, my ass and slowly grinding his jean-clad hips between mine. I needed more, I needed everything from him. This time I wouldn't let him stop.

With my fingers tangled in his hair I urged him to turn and let me climb on top of him.

When I sat straddled I broke contact with his lips for a second and leaned back to my full height. My palms flattened on his heaving chest, I looked down at him.

God, he was handsome.

My fingers explored his face. The scratchy surface of his cheeks, the hard angle of his cheekbone, the surprisingly soft lips and the scar on his chin.

I let out a low chuckle as I my fingertip trail the white little ridge, and I remembered the story behind it.

His hands came to my hips and squeezed softly. "Laughing at man when you're about to bed him, ain't the most encouraging thing you can do to a feller, Miss Davis."

I gave him a soft kiss, letting my tongue flick out just a little. "Why, Mister Morgan, I ain't laughing at you. It ain't a ladies place." I said while batting my eyelids and imitating a southern belle accent.

He huffed but couldn't fully keep the smile of his lips. Instead while keeping me anchored down with his hands, he pushed his hips upwards, pressing his hardness against me and putting a delicious pressure between my legs. His thumbs sliding more towards my clit, opening the lips that had started to swell with arousal.

Unable to catch it this time, a low moan escaped me. "Not... Fair..." I panted, while moving down to bite his neck.

His hands slid around my bottom, reaching me from behind. Letting one finger slide to my clitoris, and two fingers inside me, he started a slow and deep circular movement. "Playing fair is hardly fun, Miss Davis."

I had straightened again giving him access to the deepest parts of me, and It was all I could do to keep from shamelessly grinding downwards on his fingers.

His cleverly curling fingers held a maddening rhythm, coaxing a pleasure from me I'd never experienced before. In a low voice she whispered: "God, look at you. You are so beautiful."

He continued his caresses steadily, guiding me right to the edge where I started to unravel. Spasms starting deep inside me and curled out and upwards over my spine, through my shoulders and legs. I uttered his name in a low and deep moan.

"Yes, sweetheart, that's it." His fingers kept going, drawing out every last clench from my muscles.

I collapsed in a panting heap, sprawled over him.

He kissed the side of my face and nibbled on my earlobe. I could feel him getting ready to get up, so I pushed him down.

"We're not finished yet, cowboy.." I said, one of the corners of my mouth quirking up.

"Cat, you don't have..."

"I want to." I said decidedly, settled between his legs and started unbuckling his belt and jeans. When I finally got my hands on the taut, naked skin of his lower stomach I leaned over and kissed it.I dipped my tongue in his belly button and heard him take a sharp intake of breath.

I could feel his hands reaching down and tangle in my hair and I knew I would love the sight of him when he'd lose control.

I lowered my mouth, placing a trail of kisses and nips across his skin towards the edge of his white cotton underpants. I pulled on the string keeping it together and pulled away the fabric.

When I finally saw him fully naked and erect, my eyes widened. This would be a challenge. I looked up in his eyes for a second and he almost looked apologetic.

"Look, we don't have to do this now. We can wait as long as you want, if you need more time."

I had been with men who were well endowed before, but never like this.

"I don't need time.." I said, ordering him with my eyes to stop moving. "I am just surprised, that's all."

I could see he wanted to say more, but when my hand circled around him and I closed my mouth over the tip, he bit back the words with a hiss.

I swirled my tongue around him, taking him as deep as I could before my gag reflex would stop me. Distracted I noted that I couldn't even take half of him in my mouth.

My cheeks hollowed when I sucked and his moan shot through my core. I could feel myself getting wet again. Without stopping my movement I looked up and made eye contact. His eyes were almost closed and his gaze hazy. His breath slightly whistling through the 'O' shape of his mouth.

I kept going until I felt him twitch in my mouth, tasting the first few drops of his release. I wanted to continue, taste him, swallow every last drop he had for me, but he hooked his strong hands underneath my arms and pulled me upwards, and positioned me.

With a self restraint I hadn't expected he lowered me onto him, slowly. I could feel myself stretch to accommodate him, a deep and guttural heat settling in my stomach and my eyes rolled back. I had never been so completely and fully filled.

He wanted me on top, I realized, to let me set the rhythm and let me determine how much of him I could take. But my legs had turned to jelly, making it nearly impossible to keep the movement steady. His hands came to my hips, helping me, lifting and lowering me.

I could feel him getting frantic, getting closer to the edge. He started pushing me down harder, faster, pushing me towards an orgasm so intense I saw stars. My muscles clenched and spasmed around him, pulling him deeper. He let out a loud grunt and with one last thrust I felt warm liquid spreading inside me.

He pulled me close. Our sweat slicked bodies working hard to catch our breath. I nuzzled the hairs on his chest, smelling him, feeling him.

If he'd let me, I would have lain there for hours. But he placed one large hand on my butt and gave it a squeeze. "Come on, darlin'. We got some trainin' to do."

It turned out that Arthur had been holding back, the last few days. Where he'd held a stony silence and 'let me get a feel for the gun' before, he was now pouring out advice with gentle patience.

"No, sweetheart. Always fire a gun on empty lungs. Breath out before you pull the trigger." His hands were firmly on my shoulders, guiding them in the right position. I flexed my finger and when the the gun fired, I shot one off the small stones he'd placed up the boulder again.

I let out an excited squeel. "Yes! Yes! I did it!" I turned around, swinging my arms around his neck, the weapon hitting him between the shoulderblades.

He grunted. "Jesus, Cat. Put the gun down first, would ya. I would like to come out of this fully intact."

Pulling back I gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry.." My voice sheepish.

"You'll make it up to me, tonight." He smirked when I swatted his shoulder.

I arched my brow. "Always the charmer, aren't you."

"Since it was you who decided to join me in bed yesterday, I wouldn't be too hard on me. It would only say that much more about your taste in men."

I seriously considered using the butt of my rifle to wipe the shit eating grin off his face. He must have seen it, because in one swift movement he used one arm to pull me close and the other to grab my wrist, twisting it just enough force me to let it drop to the ground. Before I could say anything he kissed me, and words stopped having meaning.

I would never get enough of being kissed by him. The subtle power play between us only making it all the more exciting. Neither of us completely held the upper hand, nor were we completely submissive. I loved it.

With every ounce of willpower I had, I pulled back. "Hold your horses, cowboy. We're here on a mission." I pushed against his shoulder, but he wouldn't let me out of his embrace. Instead he lowered his mouth to my ear and started whispering what he would do for me if I managed to hit all the perched rocks. Blood rushed to my cheeks and my knees went weak, causing me to sway a little. He only tightened his hold on me, pushing my nose to the naked skin at the base of his neck.

I felt his lips at my temple, when he placed his hands on my shoulder and pushed me back up straight. "Alright, darlin'. Show me what you got." He ducked to pick up my rifle, reloaded it and handed it back to me.

I took position and when he came to stand behind me again, I shook my head. "No, I want to try it without your help now." He stared at me for a moment, and then nodded, taking a few steps back.

I let out a deep breath, pulled the gun up to my shoulder and took my aim. _Relax my shoulders,_ _align the visor with the rock, breath out, and…._

The little rock bursted into tiny pieces when my bullet hit it square in it's center. Beaming, I looked over my shoulder and met Arthur's gaze. He smiled at me, not his usual cynical, bordering on cocky, smile. But one that lit up his face making him seem almost boyish.

"Again.." he urged. And I did. Bullseye. Again. Bullseye. Again. Bullseye.

When I lifted the rifle once more, I has his hand appear on the barrel. "That's enough for today. Tomorrow, we'll practice on movin' targets."

I wanted to object. I still had a few rocks left. But with a hot gaze he said: "Miss Davis, might I suggest you don't struggle with me. You and I have got some business to attend to." His tone was so horribly suggestive that I giggled.

"Miss Davis, are you laughing at me again?" He said with a mock growl in his voice, starting towards me. I turned to run. My giggles turned into laughter and squeals when he chased me, catching me easily. He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. "Arthur, no.. Put me down!" I tried to make my voice turn serious, but failed miserably and so he ignored me and started walking towards the horses.

When we reached Max, he plucked me from his shoulder and cradled me in front of him. His eyes alight with humor, creating small crinkles in their corners. He kissed me and hoisted me into the saddle. "Now, do us both a favor and start ridin' towards the hotel. I'm going to give you a ten second head start and when I'm caught up with you, I will bed you. So it's up to you where that's going to be. And let me tell you somethin', I won't actually need a bed."

"You can't be serious.." My shock was real when I started into his face, but he looked at me which such a wicked glint in his eye that I knew he was.

"You only have nine more seconds, Miss Davis."

I spurred Max into a gallop, laughter and a thrill of excitement making it hard to stay upright in the saddle.

Much sooner than nine seconds I heard him yell: "Time's up!" and Beau's groundeating strides.

Max seemed to feel the urgency coursing through me, because she started running faster than I'd ever seen before. Trees swooped by in a blurr, and wind made my eyes sting.

I rounded a corner and too late I saw the rope strung low over the narrow path. Max's hoof caught, and send her tumbling over forwards. The last thing I heard was her pained whinny and then the world turned to black.


	17. Chapter 17

The first thing I noticed was the smell. The awful putrid smell you'd normally only find in dark alleyways next to a dodgy bar on saturday night. It smelled of death, rot, with the sharp pang of old urine.

I felt wet had soaked into my clothes, making me shiver. Bracing my hands, I pushed myself upwards with a groan, my ribs aching. The room around me was dark, the only light came from the cracks in the wooden hatch in the ceiling.

I tried to control my flaring panic. But I was so disoriented, with no idea where I was or why I was here. I remembered the fall, Max's pained cry shoot through me like ice. I also remembered the rope. It hadn't been an accident. I had been taken for a reason.

Strangely enough, this idea settled me a little. People who had a reason, a motive, could be persuaded. I just had to stay calm, I tried to tell my thundering heartbeat.

It took my eyes a moment to adjust before I could see what the dark looming shapes hanging around me were. Large carcasses of pigs were strung up by their hind feet. Some had their bellies cut open, leaving their entrails draping down to the floor.

I dropped my eyes to look at myself and saw I was lying in a puddle of blood and excrement of a nearby gutted animal.

I heaved, but managed to swallow the bile creeping up my throat back down. I tried to take a deep breath to steady myself, but the smell that penetrated my nostrils made my gut recoil painfully. I remembered what a friend who went to med school had once told me, when I asked him if he never had a hard time dealing with smelly body odors. The nose tends to only notice things its not used to. When you encounter something that smells really bad, the best thing you can do is take a few deep breaths.

I closed my eyes in preparation, my face twisting with disgust. I took a deep breath and shivered violently. I took another, and with a hard spasm the content of my stomach came out. I yelped in pain, clasping my midriff.

My outburst must have alerted whomever was keeping me, because I heard the scraping of a chair, followed by one set of footsteps above me, moving towards the hatch. Thud, clink. Thud, clink.

I told myself I would be steady and calm. I had to figure out what this person wanted, maybe I could talk myself free.

The sound of a chain scraping across metal and wood and then the hatch lifted. I watched apprehensively while a ladder was lowered into my horrible cell. When a male figure started to descend, I had to fight the frantic urge to search for something I could use as a weapon. I forced myself to keep looking at the man while he made his way downwards. I saw no gun in his holsters, so he had to believe there was no reason for him to defend himself. Or he had other ways.

The thought made the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight.

He stepped off the ladder with a little jump, skipping the last few wooden steps. He wasn't the tallest, neither was he the broadest. Yet, what I could make out of his face in the near darkness made all my muscles tense. There was a stone-cold hardness in his eyes that told me this man didn't know mercy. No matter how you begged or screamed. With his greasy hair that hung limply underneath his hat, and thin lipped smile that didn't reach his eyes he reminded me a bit of Micah. An older Micah, who had already realized his ambition. Ruthlessly.

"Why hello, Miss Davis. What an honor to finally meet you. I have heard so much about you." He said, his arms resting casually on his empty gunbelt. "Well, I call you Miss Davis, but maybe you'd prefer Miss Hepburn. I've heard that's the name you go by in some places."

I couldn't stop my upper lip from curling up in revulsion. "Did agent Ross sent you to do his dirty work?" That little weasel Ross, would he really go this far without evidence? In my outrage I momentarily forgot I had a gameplan. Momentarily lost my composure.

His face remained unchanged, fixed in a horrendous mockery of friendliness. "Does it matter? It won't change anything for you."

"I thought the Pinkertons were bound to their precious laws. I can hardly believe this is lawful." I spat, with such a thick note of disdain in my voice I even surprised myself.

He let out a hard laugh. "Look at you, you have really grown into your life of an outlaw haven't you." He removed his hat, and hung it on an empty meat hook screwed in the wall. He drew his hand through his hair, that was greasy enough that it remained slicked back. "How long have you been with Dutch's gang, now? Two months? Maybe three? You have adjusted quite well, Miss Davis."

I assessed him for a moment. Trying hard to reign back in the temper that threatened to flare. I wanted to say something, but before I could he continued: "But then again, Dutch never had no trouble convincin' anyone of his idea's. What they call a charismatic leader." The words seemed to loosen a deep emotion in the man, letting his southern accent I hadn't realized he'd been hiding until now, slip through.

I felt like I had just been handed a tiny thread, I had to see if pulling it would unravel him further. "Ohh, yes.. I was so lucky to meet Dutch, that he'd save me. Without him I never would have been where I am today." My voice was sweet like honey, innocent, with a hint of awe.

I couldn't pinpoint the emotion flickering on the mans face, before I had time to study it he'd already covered it up with a stony mask. "Truer words have not been spoken, Miss Davis." a hint of a smile appeared, showing tobacco yellowed teeth.

I furrowed my brow. I was here because of Dutch? Did he betray me? Decided he wanted to get rid of me after all? My stomach sank when I realized that he could very well have decided to give me to the Pinkertons, if he didn't want to deal with my mess in Blackwater. "Who are you?" I asked, and I didn't know whether or not I wanted the answer.

"Who I am isn't important, what is…."

"Than you might as well tell me." I interrupted.

This seemed to give him pauze. Then a slow, hideous smirk, languidly spread across his face. "Well, I can see why he likes you so much."

"Who? Dutch?" I asked puzzled.

"No, not Dutch. He never likes anyone but himself. I mean Arthur. The way he looks at you, I've only seen him look that way once before. And she broke his heart. I'm curious how you got him to open up again."

At the mention of his name, what he knew about him, about us.. It send a shiver down my spine. A sense of dread formed in the pit of my stomach. He knew too much.

"Who are you.." I asked again, more forceful this time.

The man studied me for a moment, then started a slow walk, circling me and stopped right at my back. I stood from my sitting position with a hand on my ribs, letting out a suppressed low groan, and turned around. The light coming from the hatch now illuminating his face, making it possible for me to see him more clearly.

His grey, salt and pepper hair, the dull blue eyes made him very unremarkable looking. But the viciousness hiding behind the eyes, and the crook in his nose that suggested he'd broken it once, gave him an unsettling air.

Seemingly contemplating my question, he casually gave a small push to one the dead pig hanging next to him, in the same way one might thoughtlessly flick a pen when pondering something. I remained silent. If he hadn't denied me yet, there wasn't much more I could say.

"Very well. I suppose it can do no harm." His eyes bored into mine, keeping my gaze locked.

I suddenly remembered something I had read somewhere a long time ago. When you are in a dangerous situation with another person, for example being held hostage or being kidnapped, you want to tell the person details about yourself. So you become a real person to them. In that same article it said that when the assailant felt free enough to share personal details -like his name- about himself, you were in real trouble. They didn't plan to let you leave alive.

I panicked, and for a second considered clasping my hands in front of his mouth to keep the answer from coming out of his mouth. But I realized I was too late, the decision had been made. And I had foolishly been the one to sway him. Silently I cursed myself.

My realization seemed to show on my face, because he let out a cruel laugh. "Colm O'Driscoll, at your service ma'am." He tipped his fingers to his forehead in a mock salute.

My heart stopped at the name, I saw the image of the cracked open skull. The blood on my hands, on the rock. The dead body of Colm's second. Did he know? Did he know it was me who killed him?

"What do you want from me?" I said, not forcefully as I would have liked. No, I sounded like a scared little mouse.

"I think you know. Don't you?" He said, with a hard edge to his voice. "You didn't really think I could let you get away with it, do you?"

"I am here because of Johnny." I stated, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice and failed. "But why capture me then? Why not kill me outright?"

"You ask too many questions, Miss Davis. And it's growing tiresome. I came to check whether you were still alive and well, after your fall. But it seems you are in fine condition." He let a leeching eye crawl over me, and my upper lip curled up in disgust again.

He huffed a laugh. "Oh don't worry, I am not going to harm you. Yet. For now I need you alive and well." He turned to leave but then I asked: "Need me for what?" He spun to face me, standing too close. His breath fanning my face almost as foul as the smell of the room in which he'd held me captive.

"You really can't figure it out?" His voice a soft, rough whisper, that made my hackles rise and his eyes came to rest on my chest which made me want to slap that predatory look of his face. He was indeed just like Micah, I thought darkly.

"You, Miss Davis, are bait.." He said almost gloating. As if this was some kind of master plan.

The idea was so ridiculous I would have snickered if he wasn't still undressing me with his eyes. "Dutch will never fall for it. Like you said, he doesn't care about anyone but himself. And he certainly doesn't care about me."

"Oh, but Dutch does care about someone. As much as he is capable, at least. There is one person who comes really close to being loved by him. Care to guess?" He was playing with me, like a cat toying with its food. Needlessly making it suffer, without the guarantee of a mercy kill.

I didn't want to guess. I didn't want to say the name out loud. Because I knew who Colm meant, and I knew I was the way to get to him. My blood ran cold.

"No…" The breathless plea escaped my lips without my permission. He had me, and he knew it.

"Oh, yes.. Miss Davis. So now, I have the immense pleasure of knowing you are suffering down here. Knowing that you will die, either by my hand or because we will leave you here to rot same as these pigs. And with only a little luck, we will also have Arthur. Killing him and hurting Dutch in the proces. Do you see? It's a three for one." His face was emotionless as he held my stare, and I was robbed for words.

How did we let this happen? How did all this play out so fantastically well for Colm?

"You will not get him.." I promised, my voice finding its strength again.

He ignored me and reached into his back pocket and fished out a flask. He held it out in the narrow space between us, the back of his hand almost touching me. It took everything I had not to flinch back instinctively. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Here you go, Miss Davis. This is the only water you'll get from me. So, unless you want to drink the blood of these pigs-" he jerked his head to the dead animals surrounding us "- I suggest you try and make it last."

He leaned over and pressed a cold, thin lipped kiss to my cheek. I wanted to spit in his face, but thought better of it. I needed to be on speaking terms with this man. In one conversation I managed to figure out why I was here, I would figure out how to get out of here. Whatever it took, I promised myself, this man would not get his hands on Arthur. So I didn't move a muscle when his reached out one finger to caress my lips. I kept my back straight and stared passed him towards the ladder.

Colm kept his promise. I didn't receive anymore water from him. By the changing light through the crack in the wooden hatch I saw day turn into night and back into day, 3 times. My flask barely had more than a few drops left and I was starting to get parched. He'd thrown an old stale piece of bread down the ladder once, nothing else, making me weak with hunger. And he refused to speak to me, regardless of how I pleaded and begged underneath the hatch.

I was starting to become thoroughly hopeless. I was no step closer to getting out, and with each passing minute I feared Arthur was getting closer.

As my friend had predicted, I had become used to the smell. Even the sight of the dead animals didn't really affect me much anymore. I had examined every inch of my cell, looking for something I could use to escape. Or even as a weapon. Nothing. Only chains I couldn't get loose, a few hooks on the wall that were mounted so securely that they were no help either, and rows of dead, slowly rotting pigs.

In the passing days it had become clear to me that Colm was not alone. Every few hours a couple of his men came in, and I heard them discussing things with Colm in harsh whispers. Not loud enough for me to understand.

I took it as a good sign that Colm wanted his men to whisper. That meant he didn't have blind faith in the fact I wouldn't make it out alive. And yet, that was also my problem. If he did, maybe he would be more careless. If he did, maybe I would've been able to find an opening or opportunity.

In a futile attempt to do something to keep the promise I made to myself, I had started trying to dug myself out. But the floor was hard granite, and I didn't have any tools, I didn't take long before my cracked, bleeding nails and fingertips forced to give up on that effort.

Loneliness started to consume me. When you are in the company of others, or even outside alone, three days seem to pass in a blink. Here, with nothing but myself and my thoughts to keep me occupied, time seemed to crawl by slowly. As if the seconds ticking away, came grinding to a halt. The lack of sound or voice around me, seemed to amplify the sound of my breathing, my heartbeat. It drove me nuts, hearing the sucking and blowing of air and the steady beat in my ears so loudly, I almost wished I was deaf.

I thought about people who are put in solitary confinement. Sometimes weeks at a time. What absolute torture that must be. Feeling so utterly alone, forgotten.

And my mouth was so, so dry.

Another day passed, and I sat with my back against the wall, trying to keep from losing my mind by playing 'would you rather' with myself. Would you rather, be with someone you love but is dirt poor. Or be with someone you hate, but is filthy rich? Well, that one was easy. Being with someone you love is infinitely more important, than luxury clothing and holidays. Would you rather, be bitten by a snake or a spider. A snake, I hate spiders. Would you rather, drink pigs blood or die from dehydration. I wasn't able to answer that yet.

Being locked up in a cell alone, when you move beyond hopelessness, you might find yourself wishing back those feelings of despair. That was infinitely better that this hollow emptiness, caused by the lack of stimulation. I had given up on trying to reach the man who sat above me. As I knew it was pointless. He had a plan, and there was nothing I could do to change it. Nothing I could do to stop it either, I now was only waiting for the inevitable.

Would you rather, kiss a toad or be kissed by Colm. Easy, toad. Would you rather, stay in 1899 with Arthur or go back home. No, I didn't want to think about that. Would you rather eat someone alive, or "be eaten alive. Now, this is a hard one. After I've eaten someone alive, there is no way I could live with myself anymore. At the other hand, being eaten alive is such a horrible idea…"

Sometime in my game I had started playing it out loud. Talking to myself, giving my ears something to listen to. My voice was hoarse and cracking by the lack of water and my thoughts drifted back to the pigs blood. I had to drink something. It scared me that my mouth begane to crave the coppery taste of blood, and I tried to occupy my thought again.

"Would you rather, live alone and be with someone when you die, or live with someone and die alone. Live with someone, dying alone isn't fun, but living alone must be some much worse. Not being able to share the good or the bad. No, I'd rather die alone."

Again, my thoughts went to the dead animals near me. If I had any water left in me, my mouth would water at the idea of having fluids. Any fluids. Before I could stop myself I'd risen to my feet, and walked up to the bloated, unopened carcass closest to me. I drew my finger across the cold, stiff belly of the animal.

NO.

I forced my feet to walk away and slid back against the wall.

"Would you rather.." I ordered myself, in an effort to get me to focus on anything else. "Be a Disney princess or a Disney villain. The villains get to wear the cool outfits. Would you rather, be a three legged horse, or a five legged duck. I'd rather be a five legged duck. I would still be able to fly." I pushed the words out through gritted teeth.

I was on my feet again. My body's need for something to drink, so much bigger than my willpower or disgust of what I was about to do. I walked over to a different pig. One that was gutted and open. Most of the blood had dried up, but there were a few wet spots here and there.

I felt like an onlooker, looking down on myself, with no control of what was happening. I saw my hand extend, brush past the skin and into its belly past the ribs. A sharp pang in the palm of my hand jerked my conscience back into my body. I pulled my hand back and saw it was bleeding. Without thinking I pulled the cut to my mouth to suck on it and I nearly groaned at the taste. I could only take one mouthful before I felt my stomach churn and so I dropped my arm to my side.

I stood there for a moment, relishing the way my mouth felt now it had a bit of moisture again, when I realized that I had been cut. Cut my something sharp enough to break my skin. I searched the opened belly cavity in front of me, and found that one of the ribs had been cut off in a sharp angle when the animal was cut open.

Carefully I wrapped my hand around it, and started to push it outwards. With a clean crack it came loose. I tested the point on my finger, it was sharp. Very sharp. I felt a grin spread across my face, knowing that I now had a weapon.

I stepped back from the animal, weighing its rib in my hand, twisting it between my fingers. I would only have one shot. If I missed and he knew where I got my weapon from, he would kill me. Or tie me up, which would almost be as bad as killing me.

I looked up at the ceiling, as if I could see the man sitting above me now. He was there, I heard him come in a couple of hours ago and hadn't heard him leave yet.

I had to find a way to get him down here. To kill him. Or wound him enough to incapacitate him.

But even if I did, I still didn't have a way of sneaking passed the guards. I quieted the cynical voice in my head. I didn't have the luxury to doubt myself. This would work, there was no other option.

The light coming through the wooded hatch was still bright, telling me it was sometime midday. It might be better to wait, until nightfall.

But I wasn't sure I would survive that with nothing to drink, and I couldn't risk Arthur finding me before that.

I had to get him down here, now.

"Oi! Asshole" I yelled with all the bluster I could manage. "Some trap you're setting. It's almost been four days, and he still hasn't found me. You do understand the purpose of a trap right? That you need the people you want to trap, to be able to find you."

I forced a sarcastic snicker out of my bone dry throat. "You are even a bigger idiot than Dutch told me!"

Nothing but silence.

"Motherfucker! You come down here right now and fight me like a man. You fuckin coward!"

Nothing.

I looked around, hopeless searching for something that would force his hand. That forced him to come down.

Then I remembered. He had a plan and he needed me, alive and well. Or alive, anyway.

I stared at the rib in my hand.

It was a gamble. He might as well be lying and then I would be so weak I would die within hours. But I had no other choice, no options.

I could fake it? No, he would never fall for it. It had to be real.

A horrible thought shot through me. What if he didn't answer because he already had Arthur? What if he was truly, just waiting for me to die down here?

I had to risk it. I was out of options.

I raised the rib, sharp point downwards and stabbed myself in my upper leg. My agonized scream seemed to resonate with the stone wall and prison of my cell. I fell to the ground, pushing my hands down on the wound. I must have hit a muscle, because every inch of me was filled with such fiery pain everytime I moved, I feared I would pass out. I started to sob, while trying to limit the bloodloss. I was a stupid idiot, maybe half an hour and I would be bled out.

Then I heard a miracle. The scraping of a chair. I would never have thought a person could be this relieved to hear that sound.

Urgent footsteps, one set, to the hatch. The chain being drawn through metal, and the groan of hinges being pulled open.

With effort I pulled one hand from the wound and clasped the rib, that laid next to me on the floor. This was it, no room for mistakes.

The ladder was lowered and Colm was quickly making his way down. With guns in his holsters this time.

I kept my head bent over me, obscuring my face, while he made his way towards me.

He hissed when he saw the blood pouring from my leg and crouched over me. "You silly, little fool. Didn't I tell you I needed you alive. Do you think I am going to let you kill yourself? Do you think this will be that easy for you?"

Roughly he pushed his hat from his head and pulled his shirt over his shoulders. He started to rip up the fabric into strips. "Lay still, I will make sure you don't bleed out." he grind out, accusingly.

He was bent over me, and I saw the naked skin of his neck, with the large protruding artery. I knew what I had to do.

I shifted my weight a bit, freeing my hand so I could strike.

I wanted to close my eyes, but forced them to remain focused on the target.

One… Two… Three… I counted down reading myself.

I jammed the rib into his neck, holding on to it tightly, pushing down as hard as I could.

I had expected screaming, chaos, mayhem. I hadn't expected the total silence that followed. I saw Colm's body tighten, but with the rib still neatly plugging the hole in his neck, there was no blood.

For a moment it seemed we were both just waiting for me to pull the plug. To start it. To end it. In this moment, we both knew what I had done and what I was about to do.

With his body still angled over me, I couldn't really see his face. Only the side, which was obscured by a curtain of greasy strains of hair. But I saw the white hot flicker of rage in his eye, and on the corner of his mouth.

"I got you, asshole." I hissed, a jerked back my hand. Simultaneously I moved my other hand over his mouth to keep his scream from alerting the others.

I pushed my body over him, straddling him while still pressing down on his mouth, and I stared into his face. He held my gaze, and in it I found nothing but rage and contempt. The puddle of blood that formed around his head was growing rapidly, and I watched the life drain from him until his eyes closed and his head lolled to the side.

It was over. He was dead.


End file.
